


Mr. Kirkland

by theroseredreaper



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2P Hetalia, Character Death (Minor), International Criminal! England, Involves 2P Nations, M/M, Mafia! Italy Bros., Minor mentions of MapleTea, Minor mentions of Red Velvet Pancakes, Minor ships hinted at, More ships revealed in fic, Mystery, NO USUK, NOT USUK, Questionable Gov., Slow Build, Warning: this ain't USUK, actually there might be more gay than initially intended, also on fanfiction.net, heavy on the action, like if you squint you might see it, low on the gay, officers, romance is minor/romance is not big part of the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-11-15 17:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 27,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroseredreaper/pseuds/theroseredreaper
Summary: He used to be your average, law-abiding citizen. But three years ago, everything changed when everyone forgot him. Now he is Arthur A. Kirkland, wanted criminal extraordinaire, chasing after corrupt agents, missing persons, trying to expose the government for what it is: a hoax.





	1. Arthur A. Kirkland

**Author's Note:**

> This is adapted from a work on my fanfiction account; I wanted to expand my audience and decided to post it on here as well. This is my first time working with AO3, and I find the formatting weird, but I hope you like the story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur arrives in London.

Walking down the street, examining his surroundings, a certain criminal smiled in appreciation of the bustling city around him. Ah, London. So nostalgic and lively. His previous residence, the humble town of Bath, was lovely, but… he always did crave the faster paced things in life. Crossing from one sidewalk to another, he laughed under his breath at the officers as they scurried past him, giving them their space to run past. It would seem they had already given chase after his small home in Bath had been discovered empty that morning. It was all over the tele, after all.

     Moving with the ebb and flow of the crowd, he wandered through London. Familiarizing himself with it. He memorized the alleys, dark corners, narrow streets, what shops seemed new and what other shops remained exactly where he had remembered them. More officers flurried by and he cracked a smile at how he went unnoticed. Hiding in plain sight was his favorite hobby as of late. Crossing another road, he paused in front of a poster and tutted at it.

**WANTED**

**ARTHUR A. KIRKLAND**

**$1,000,000**

**REWARD**

“They always exaggerate my eyebrows,” he muttered, scowling at the otherwise handsome likeness. The poster was created back when he had been using a cover of a civilian heavy into punk rock, his hair dyed black at the time. Shaking his head, Arthur moved along, eyes roaming for a tea parlor or small coffee shop. A cup of tea would soothe his fatigue after having just moved to town. His new flat was conveniently located at the southern end, in a cusp of out of the way houses and alleys, where no one asked questions and questionable deals were made.

Relaxing in the window seat of a parlor of his choice, Arthur enjoyed his tea. Although it was an irritation to climb the stairs to reach the shop, the view was advantageous. Breathe taking, too. He could see practically the entirety of London from here. On some streets far off, he spotted a Spaniard in what seemed to be a lover’s quarrel. Not too much further from the pair, a man in traditional Japanese attire was hobbling along with a large suitcase. Eyes wandering as he took another sip, Arthur spied a nervous platinum blond walking with a loud man whose hair seemed to defy gravity. The blond seemed vaguely familiar to him. Sighing softly and setting down his cup elegantly, he checked his watch. He should head to his new flat soon to claim his keys. But finishing the tea first was his priority. Resuming his people watching as he resumed his tea, he saw a German strolling with a cheery friend through a market, an albino and a snobbish man behind them. In the park down the road from the market was an intimidating man walking his dog with what appeared to be his wife, and another young man passed by them. Arthur’s eyes softened as he watched the young man in his red hoodie walked into the park with his hockey stick.

So many interesting characters of all different walks of life. Another reason why he loved London. Cup pausing before it could touch his lips, Arthur took notice of the suspicious amount of police cars congregating outside the building he was in with mild amusement. It would seem they finally took notice of where he was…

“Freeze!” turning to meet the voice, Arthur smiled coyly. “Put your hands where I can see them, Kirkland!” Setting down his teacup with a deliberate slowness, he cocked his head in observation of the officer in front of him, eyes twinkling mischievously. This particular officer had been following him since the beginning of his crime sprees three years ago, and had a knack for causing a ruckus in his pursuit of him. Arthur made sure to leave an extra tip under the cup.

“We haven’t seen each other in a month and this is how you greet me? How cold, Alfred,” he feigned fondness. Not that it was hard. His response was met with a scowl.

“That’s Officer Jones to you, Kirkland,” the blond man kept his gun level and trained on Arthur as he rose from his chair.

“I’m quite aware, thank you, Jones. Now put that silly thing away, guns are dangerous, you know.”

Alfred glared, calming himself at the taunt.

“We have you surrounded. Come willingly, or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

Humming, Arthur rolled a coin between his fingers, unconcerned.

“We both know you wouldn’t do that.”

Three men entered behind Alfred, vaguely reminding Arthur of some of the characters he spotted on the streets some minutes prior. He didn’t bother to commit them to memory.

“I’ll repeat: come willingly, or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Such tantalizing options,” he smiled, “but I think I’ll opt for a good old chase.”

The officers tensed as Arthur let the coin drop from his grip, silence broken perfectly as it hit the worn carpet of the shop. In rapid succession the coin spewed a thick smoke that overtook the room, setting off the fire alarm and soon after the sprinklers and guns of the officers behind Alfred, giving Arthur the opportunity to slip down the back stairwell in the shouting and confusion. Jogging down the backstreet on the other side of the building, Arthur smirked. The naïve officer always fell for that particular coin trick.

“Hold your fire, hold your fire!” Alfred shouted, frantically waving away the smoke. He was annoyed with himself for not having seen that coming sooner. His men gathered near him warily, all of them drenched and jumpy. They were all equally humiliated.

“Now, if I were Arthur Kirkland, where would I go…?”

Spotting the emergency exit as being open, Alfred bolted down the stairs, his men following closely behind. The native Brit was leisurely jogging ahead of them, headed in the direction of a bridge. He laughed heartily at him,

“Nice of you to join me, Alfred!”

Scowling, Alfred sped up, “You’re not getting away this time, Kirkland!”

Another laugh was all he heard before he looked up to see Arthur vaulting off the bridge with a devilish grin. Nearly colliding with the railing of the bridge himself, Alfred slowed down in time to see Arthur float off to safety on a river boat, waving pleasantly while Alfred’s men fell unceremoniously into the water in their haste to chase the Brit. He had gotten away. Again.

Alfred roared in frustration, throwing his hat on the ground.

“Damn it, Kirkland!”

* * *

 

Arthur bowed to the captain of the riverboat as they left him at the southern end of town, near his new flat. They were rather generous in letting him escape on their boat, giving him a bag of hard meats and cheeses from their wares and asking him to sign a wanted poster of himself and participating in a few selfies. It would amuse him constantly how the public loved a good villain.

Chewing thoughtfully on a hunk of red Leicester, he ambled towards the direction of his new flat. He stopped mid-step as he made eye contact with a man stepping out of his own flat from the same building where Arthur was going to move into. Their eyes widened at the same time. The landlord has said Arthur would be the only one living in this building. Arthur struggled to swallow his cheese.

“Are you…A-Are you Arthur Kirkland…?” the man asked, his words awkward with an Asian accent, registering in Arthur’s mind as the Japanese man he spotted while people watching earlier. The Brit felt his cheeks warm at the timid voice.

“…yes?” was his lame response. The two continued to stare at one another for a few moments longer.

“You’re not going to report me…are you?”

The man seemed to fluster.

“I…I do not have a phone…”

An awkward silence.

“I see.”

Clearing his throat and examining the building before them, Arthur smiled humorlessly at the building number, seeing that yes, it was the same building he was going to live in, like he had saw moments before.

“Have you rented a flat here?”

“W-why do you ask?” the Japanese man stuttered, wary of him.

“I do believe that we are to be neighbors.”

The man seemed to fluster again when Arthur held his hand shake. He reluctantly accepted. Criminals were to not be easily trusted, after all.

“Arthur A. Kirkland, at your service. A pleasure to meet you.”

“K-Kiku Honda, at yours and your family. A-a pleasure to meet you as well,” he murmured, and Arthur found himself delighted.

“You may call me by my surname if that makes you feel comfortable. I’ll try to do the same for you.”

Kiku smiled nervously at the politeness, hands clenching at his yukata in timid habit.

“Th-Thank you, Kirkland-san.”

They smiled at each other then, openly, and felt a bond forming. It seemed as though they were going to be friends, against better judgement or not.


	2. An Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur meets with the mafia.

It was interesting to him how much one’s circumstances can change within a matter of moments, a splattering of seconds, or even the inconsequential span of merely a day. For Arthur, it had been three years since he used to work for a company under a branch of the government, as one of their best officers. Now he spent his time taking clashes with it and running from its officers. The irony amused him at times. Such as now, as he arranged his measly belongings in his new residence.

 _Things used to be so orderly and composed then,_ he thought, arranging three books on a shelf and several stacks of different folders. He placed a simple lamp on top of the shelf and switched it on before walking to his worn down table.

 _Now I shove everything into misshapen piles. No room for belongings,_ his thoughts continued. He liked to think highly of himself, you know, and often wandered into pretentious self-narration. Three years with hardly anyone other than yourself does that to a person.

Fingers brushing against more folders and yellowing papers, his internal musing went on.

_What to do, what to do…it’s been fun and all, but nick-picking at the solitary politician or businessman hardly does anything if they’re just replaced by an equally rotten apple. Stealing for sustenance is still highly disagreeable, and I cannot think of any corrupt government leaders calling for a good thrashing right now…_

Sitting and reading the yellow paper in front of him, his face puckered into a solid scowl.

_I’m hardly any closer to where I was before. A step forward, a step back, and no new progress anywhere in between. Three years of simple meandering._

Hunger calling Arthur’s attention back to reality, the dirty blond sighed and put away his papers into a hazardous pile, grabbing his keys and heading out the door. It was dusk by now and the city around him was in a pleasant haze. The market was conveniently close and some groceries were in order to make his flat more livable.

“ _Ah, perdon, señor_ ,” exclaimed a man as he bumped into Arthur head on. It was hardly an accident, but he shook his head, hands up in a placating gesture.

“Don’t worry, its fine. Are you alright?”

“ _Si_ , thank you for asking! Here, a token of my thanks,” the stranger said, handing Arthur a slip of paper. Looking at the paper, the blond quickly shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me, it was-,” but when he looked up, the stranger was gone,”- nothing…”

Looking back at the slip of paper, he slowly unfurled it and reading the message within, curious.

_‘Dear Mr. Kirkland,_

_Greetings. Our family has taken great interest in you, Mr. Kirkland. You have built quite the reputation as a criminal and your reputation has grown notoriously as of late. It intrigues us that you seem to be more of a vigilante of sorts rather than a criminal mastermind, however. We would like to request your services. Before you discard this letter, be aware that we can aide you with whatever agenda you have up your sleeve, Mr. Kirkland. Our family is a powerful asset and ally. In fact, we may even have the same agenda in mind. If you wish to respond, please meet at the disclosed location. It is advisable that you rid evidence of this letter to avoid leads back to the family. Understandable, yes?_

_Best wishes,_

_The Vargas Family’_

Arthur stared at the paper in astonishment. The _mafia_ had contacted him. Well…that certainly made things interesting. They could also help him…that most certainly would move him along in his quest. But really…he laughed. Vigilante indeed. Was helping others not just common courtesy and common sense? It was human nature to not want to die, after all.

* * *

 

“It seems that someone has sent him a point of direct communication, sir.”

“Excellent. Keep your reports up to date and make sure to report back often. Your vigilance of this dangerous criminal is important, you know. You do your fellow man a great service.”

“Thank you. You flatter me greatly.”

“Report back tomorrow at the same time.”

“Of course.”

* * *

 

Shivering with the sensation of someone following him, Arthur checked his surroundings, frowning when he saw no one of suspicion. At least he already acquired his groceries. Putting them away in his ancient fridge, he gasped suddenly.

“Antonio! Of course, that’s who he was. Silly me, how did I not notice earlier? So he joined the mafia…interesting change of occupation.”

Looking back at the slip of paper, he fished around for a match stick. Holding the paper over the sink, he watched the ashes sprinkle down in a meager pile, ignoring the heat on his skin when the flame licked his fingertips.

“Should I agree to the meeting place? I do have a large bounty upon me…and for all I know, Antonio could be posing as a mafia correspondent to get to me. Ah, the options, the options…”

* * *

 

Walking down the road, Arthur mulled over the letter and its request. He could arrive and get arrested. He could arrive and get recruited for a job he didn’t want to do and risk being on the family’s blacklist for refusing it. Or he could show up and gain the biggest allies he could ever dream of. All he had to do was decide if he would meet up with Carriedo.

So it was this Saturday morning, merely two days after his eventful arrival in London, that he found himself at the quaint corner of a hidden alley way, in front of a fairly recently built dancing studio. Double checking the address, Arthur entered through the back of the building. The building itself was closed for the upcoming holidays.

“Carriedo, you there?”

Receiving no response, Arthur skeptically inched through the dim hall, straining his ears for any sounds. The walls seemed to be insulated with sound proof material, most likely to not disturb neighboring businesses. Silence seemed to bellow here. On edge, sidling forward, Arthur examined the extravagantly furnished studio. The lack of human company effectively unnerved him.

 _A dance studio owner and instructor seems to be the perfect cover for Antonio,_ mused Arthur as he neared the end of the hall.

_Judging from the fancy equipment and lavish rooms, he seems to take pride in it as well._

Finally finding an open door, he peeked in.

“ _Olé_!” came Antonio’s cheery voice, clapping to the rhythm of a Latin song. He was praising whoever was dancing in front of him. Inching forward a little, Arthur saw the dancer was a young man a little shorter than himself, and the young man was dancing in perfect synchronization to the song. He was a magnificent dancer. Sweat dripped down his face, his expression one of utter concentration.

“Good, good, Lovi! Your footwork has really improved!”

The man scowled and was about to retort but was caught off-guard by Antonio grabbing his hand and turning the dance into a partnership. Their complicated footwork fascinated Arthur; the choreography definitely had a Spanish flare to it. The pair moved in unison, their dance embodying a captivating strength and unspoken grace. They looked as though they were lost in each other, the shorter of the two just beginning to smile, the whole world holding only them. Their finesse went unmatched and while the song sang its final note, they gazed into each other’s eyes, out of breath from the intensity of the dance. Just as their lips were about to meet, Arthur ruined the moment with polite applause.

“That was some splendid dancing! I’ve never seen better in my entire life.”

The pair flushed, and the one Antonio called ‘Lovi’ quickly grabbed his things before flying out the door, Antonio staggering after him.

“Lovino, wait! Damn, those Italians sure can run,” his dance student was long gone before he could even take a step. Heaving a strangled sigh, Antonio turned to Arthur, trying to mask his annoyance with a strained smile. It didn’t help much.

“ _Hola, amigo_. I’ve been teaching Lovino for a long time, and as you had seen, he is my best pupil. He can be very shy though…”

Arthur hid his amusement while Antonio sat and took a long drink from his water bottle.

“I trust that you’ve come with your answer to our request, _Señor_ Kirkland?”

Nodding, Arthur took a seat across from Antonio, crossing his legs in a business-like manner.

“Yes, I have. I have decided to take up whatever this request you have for me is. Seeing as you lot are the mafia, though, I don’t entirely trust you. I would also like to know who it is precisely that I am working for.”

Antonio’s eyes seem to twinkle with a humorless sort of amusement.

“ _Lo siento_ , but my boss will reveal himself in due time. It’s understandable that you’d find our jobs and motives questionable, but I assure you, both of our parties have a common goal in mind at the end of the day.”

Arthur straightened up in interest.

“Once you’ve accepted this job of ours, the family will expect you to answer to their every beck and call from then on, as an honorary ally of sorts. Do you still accept our request?”

A pause. Then, a nod.

“My answer remains the same.”

Smiling, Antonio gathered his things, glad to not have to talk to him anymore.

“ _Buenisimo_! Now, how about some tea? I’m wondering what you Englishmen love about it so much.”

Amused by Antonio’s attempt at politeness, Arthur trailed behind, smiling at how peeved the Spanish man was that he had actually accepted. Perhaps this deal with the mafia could make for a quick, beneficial acquaintance. It didn’t hurt to have allies for certain things. Following Antonio into a nondescript café, Arthur’s stray thoughts turned to a memory of the past.

 _A step forward, a step back, for three years straight…But right now, it seems like I’ve taken six whole steps in an entirely new direction,_ Arthur grinned, making Antonio pay for his tea. Unbeknownst to the both of them, they were being followed.


	3. From His Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone remembers Arthur??

The following Monday, London owed its citizens some well-deserved sun after days of gloomy clouds. Lots of tourists milled about, the chill of fall not being as bad as the day before, and the shops were beginning their holiday season promotions. Skating along the grimy sidewalk towards the park, Mathew Williams wondered how things in his everyday life had turned out this way. Sure, his life was peaceful and he had no real complaints, but there was a large chunk missing from it.

His cousin.

After the incident three years ago, the Canadian had stopped trying to bring up the infamous criminal around his family and friends some months ago. They would get riled up and speak about his cousin like he was the scum of the Earth. But if Mathew tried to hint at anything suggesting that the criminal was a good guy, that the criminal had done something for them, or the criminal had known them, they would all look at him like he was crazy. They didn’t remember him at all. Only Mathew remembered his cousin for some reason, despite him and his brother having been raised by said cousin, and said cousin having( _or rather_ , Mathew thought, _had_ ) a boyfriend that was still a family friend. It was as if Mathew’s cousin had disappeared from everyone’s memories. All, except Mathew’s. So Mathew stopped trying to mention it.

But old habits die hard.

Pulling up to the black top, Mathew waved to his friends. Only Gilbert, Ivan, and Carlos were present. Then again, they were the only friends he had that didn’t mistake him for his brother on a regular basis (though Carlos did do that sometimes, admittedly). Those three hardly got along with each other, but they tried for Mathew’s sake.

“Matvey! It is good to see you today,” Ivan greeted cheerfully, holding Gilbert in a choke hold. Mathew giggled, handing a hockey stick to Carlos.

“It’s nice to see you too, Ivan,” he greeted in turn, coaxing Gilbert out from Ivan’s death grip.

“Ja, good to see you too, Birdie,” Gil rasped, rubbing his throat and glaring at Ivan as he took up a hockey stick of his own. The boys started lacing up their roller blades.

“How are you, Mathew?” Carlos asked, pulling a hockey puck out of a bag and skating over to one of the goals they had set up. “You look distracted.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about something before I came here.”

“What about?” Gil took his place in the middle with the puck.

“Oh, uh…just about…Arthur…,” he responded, taking his place opposite from Gilbert on the blacktop. Gil sighed, shaking his head.

“This again?”

“Ah, da, I heard on the news that he has moved his operation to London recently. My sister was working late with the officers last week.”

“You’re not going to try and seek him out while he’s here, are you, Mat? We thought you had dropped talking about Arthur,” Carlos asked, getting ready for the start of their small hockey game.

“It’s in bad taste to mention that criminal while we’re playing hockey, Birdie.”

Mathew laughed nervously, nodding. Why would he expect them to remember his cousin now if they didn’t remember him for the past three years?

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s just play.”

* * *

 

As the sun was setting, Mathew trudged home, shaking leaves from his boots as he went. The leaves really piled up at this particular part of the park and Mathew almost wished that he had followed the sidewalk instead of cutting across the grass in a short cut to the main road. Mathew sighed to himself as he took a place at the cross walk. He couldn’t understand why no one else remembered. After three long years of questioning it, Mathew began to wonder if he had imagined the past seventeen years of his life. He had been scaring his brother and his friends. Mathew sighed again, impatiently scowling at the light above the sidewalk. It seemed to be taking forever.

“…M-mathew…?” a familiar voice wondered behind him, as if it were a question thought aloud. That accent, that posh way of pronouncing a word…Mathew timidly turned around, amethyst eyes widening in disbelief when they made eye contact with a pair of bright emerald eyes.

“Ar…a-arthur…?”

Arthur sharply inhaled, utterly shocked that Mathew asked for his name. The shorter blond hesitated, before looking up at the taller one, the growing crowd pressing in around them. The light wasn’t going to go anytime soon.

“Do you…do you remember me…?”

Mathew slowly nodded, afraid that he was dreaming this, afraid that if this were real, a wrong move would shatter the moment and he might not be able to see Arthur ever again. Arthur laughed in a strained combination of disbelief and amazement.

“How? No one…no one is supposed to remember me.”

“I…I don’t know. I…I think I’m the only one who remembers you. Not even Francis – “

Mathew was quieted by Arthur lifting a palm to silence him, wincing at the mention of his former lover.

“It’s fine. No one was supposed to remember in the first place.”

“But…why?”

Arthur shook his head, warily examining the crowd around them.

“We can’t talk here. Too open, and there could be eavesdroppers.”

Before Mathew could ask any more questions, Arthur grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, the two of them disappearing into the streets of London.

* * *

 

“Oh, this is unusual, you don’t normally report via telephone. What’s the special occasion?”

“It seems that someone personally knows Mr. Kirkland and his past, sir. You told me that the criminal in question had no connections with anyone, sir. I thought this of utmost importance to report.”

The agent could practically hear his employer grin on the other line, and shuddered as a chill ran down his spine.

“Oooh, that is quite intriguing! Follow this outlier and learn what their connection to Kirkland is. I’ll be expecting your report at the regular time. In fact…I want you to capture this person and bring them in for questioning.”

“Understood, sir,” the agent hung up the phone and continued tailing Arthur and Mathew.

* * *

 

The café was plain and out of the way, just the way Arthur and Mathew liked it. Beyond the differences in the way they carried themselves, the two cousins actually had a lot in common. Settling into two chairs next to a large window, Mathew observed Arthur as he nursed the cup of hot cocoa his long-lost cousin had bought for him. Arthur looked like he hadn’t change at all since the last time he saw him, as if he had never disappeared without a trace. The same messy and unkempt hair, the same eyes that seemed to be calculating a hundred different plans all at once, and the same regal posture, as if he never truly belonged anywhere…It was like a blast from the past.

“So…you’re the only one who remembers me?”

Mathew nodded, sipping at his drink.

“Weird…”

Mathew frowned, holding his drink in his lap.

“Arthur…what have you been doing these past three years? Why did you suddenly leave, without a trace? Why did I wake up one day and no one could remember you? A-all the pictures of you in our house disappeared! I-I –“

Arthur did that annoying thing where he silenced Mathew with his hand again. Mathew huffed, upset.

“I can’t answer any of that. And, actually, I’m not sure why you remember me. You truly weren’t supposed to. Now it’s a liability on me…”

The Canadian scoffed, offended. Evidently, the caring, affectionate Arthur he had once known was replaced by this cool strategist in front of him.

“You haven’t been doing anything bad, have you? You have a price on your head – in American dollars! You don’t…you don’t sell drugs and rob things, do you?”

Arthur snorted, answering with a scoff that rivaled Mathew’s, “What do you take me for, Mattie? Of course I don’t do anything as _lowly_ as that! No, I deal with corrupt politicians, that sort of thing.”

“…Have you ever killed anyone?”

“No comment. Any other questions?”

Mathew scowled at him.

“Can I see you again? Or, can you at least visit?”

“Absolutely not.”

The taller blond sputtered.

“Why not? I haven’t seen you in three years, you – I – ugh, I hate it when you do the hand thing!”

“Calm down, Mattie,” Arthur smiled a bit, and for a moment it was if he was the Arthur that Mathew remembered.

“You can’t let anyone know that you remember. As I said before, no one is supposed to remember me. Bad things can happen to you. It’s dangerous, do you understand?”

But Mathew did not understand, and he was angry, and he wanted answers.

“But Artie – “

“Horrible people would come and hurt you if they knew that you remember me. They would torture you if they learned that you had connections to me,” Arthur slowly stood, slowly enunciating every syllable of his last word, “Understand?”

Mathew swallowed thickly, nodding and standing as well. The Canadian frowned as the two of them exited the café. He didn’t want to separate from Arthur so soon, he didn’t want him to leave again, but he knew his cousin had to go.

“I have to go now. I…have to go, okay? And please, don’t let anyone know that you remember me, ok? …Please, be careful.”

He was gone like a wisp of cool air that Mathew couldn’t grasp. This was so surreal to him. Had that actually happened? Yes, yes it had. Mathew sighed and walked back towards the crosswalk and the light finally gave him the okay to cross.

A gust of late fall wind ran through the streets and suddenly Mathew was all too aware of the eyes of the crowd around him as he began walking to his home, the warnings Arthur gave him ringing in his ears, each second seeming to stretch into a life time. He had to get home quicker than the pace he was going. Faster, faster, faster! But before Mathew could take the final step into the safety of his front yard, he was tugged back by the hood of his sweat shirt, and the world went black.

“I’ve acquired Mathew Williams, sir.”


	4. Friendship?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some Asakiku.

Seeing that his younger cousin had grown into a fine young man put Arthur into an excellent mood; such an excellent mood, that it lasted for several days. He even decided to be a good neighbor for once, and call upon Kiku. He could perhaps show Kiku around London as well, since it seemed like Kiku was little more than a tourist, though Kiku had previously told him that he was staying in London for a good while for work. So on a Tuesday, some days after his coincidental meeting with Mathew, Arthur went to visit Kiku in the apartment across from his.

* * *

 

Meeting with Arthur was less than pleasant. The man was a criminal, after all, yet he still wanted to attempt neighborly politeness? It didn’t take much for one to wonder if Arthur had any ulterior motives for wanting to come over for a visit. Kiku was a nervous wreck, stumbling about his small apartment, clumsy with his china, and was horrified with himself that he couldn’t provide any refreshments other than his green tea and strawberry daifuku. Kiku felt like a horrible host, and as though he was leaving the worst impression on Arthur.

The two of them kept lapsing into awkward silences with each other, and they both inwardly cursed their inability to be more social. It did not help that Kiku was endearing with his clumsiness, or that Arthur was so damn charming with his manners. Arthur attempted to pick back up conversation first.

“So, Kiku…you haven’t been in England long, have you?”

Kiku flinched, his cheeks hot with shame at having spaced out. Arthur mentally kicked himself, that question must have sounded rude.

“Ah, n-no, I haven’t. It is, um, a little difficult to adjust to the customs of westerners, I must admit…”

Arthur smiled politely, already feeling the atmosphere turning awkward again.

“You seem to have nothing but Asian goods here.”

Now Arthur flushed from embarrassment.

“N-not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just, perhaps I could show you around town? A-acquaint you with the local shops?”

Kiku gulped. Was it possible for someone to look so handsome while they were embarrassed? Wait, no, maybe Arthur is planning something? Or maybe he actually just wants to be his friend? Hopefully that was it. Kiku sincerely hoped their friendship would swiftly move past whatever awkward phase they were going through right now.

“Y-yes. That sounds agreeable.”

After setting things in order in his apartment, and nearly breaking another tea pot, Kiku met Arthur out on the door step of their apartment building. Arthur glanced down at Kiku’s traditional sandals and smiled politely again, wondering how to word his next sentence.

“Er, you have an impeccable taste for the classics, Kiku, but I think the streets here will not be kind to your footwear…”

Kiku meekly nodded in agreement, embarrassed all over again, trying to follow Arthur through the cobblestone streets. His older brother had told him to purchase western clothing, it would make the move easier, but Kiku had stubbornly not listened, preferring his usual yukatas and sandals.

“I apologize if I’ve offended you…,” Athur cleared his throat, worried by Kiku’s silence.

Kiku quickly shook his head, about to respond, when he gracefully tripped and flailed forward, but Arthur caught him. Kiku could feel his ancestors above looking away in shame.

“I-it’s quite alright, Kirkland-san. I, er, I think it would be helpful if you would show me the local clothing stores first…?”

Arthur smiled at him, and Kiku found himself dumbfounded. Why was Arthur, with his gentlemanly demeanor, a criminal? Kiku felt self-conscious that entire time that Arthur helped him walk through the streets.

* * *

 

“H-How do I look, Kirkland-san?”

Arthur had to remind himself how to breathe for a moment, before returning to reality.

“You look simply splendid, Honda.”

Kiku smiled politely, but seemed to grow sad at Arthur’s word choice. Why did Arthur suddenly call him by his last name? Had he gotten on Arthur’s bad side as he had thought, or was he just thinking too much?

“They are not too plain…?”

“No, nonsense! It suits you. Now, let’s find you a pair of shoes to go with those clothes.

Arthur tugged Kiku along to the footwear section of the department store, and the poor Asian man felt like his heart might not be able take any more of this today.

“A-Arthur – ah, n-no, Kirkland-san, - “

Arthur laughed merrily, “Arthur is just fine. What is it, Kiku?”

Kiku cringed as an alarm blared behind them.

“W-We haven’t paid for the clothes yet, Kirkland-san…”

* * *

 

After properly paying for the clothes this time, Arthur and Kiku visited the shoe store and Arthur purchased two pairs of shoes for Kiku as a gift for being his neighbor. As Arthur explained to him which shops were best for afternoon tea in London, Kiku found himself lost in thought as he examined Arthur. The way Arthur carried himself was dignified, his manners were excellent, and he was overly considerate of everyone around him. Despite being an internationally wanted criminal, no one seemed to pay any attention to him either, and Arthur had no qualms about being out in public.

Kiku had been prepared to be repulsed, to be disgusted by Arthur, when they had first met. Arthur’s criminal record was atrocious! Yet…Kiku found himself charmed by Arthur. There was a small voice that nagged at him in the back of his mind that told him that this was a bad idea, reminding him that Arthur is a criminal, trying to be a voice of reason. But Kiku ignored the voice, and watching the way Arthur’s eyes seemed to light up when he spoke about something that excited him, Kiku decided to indulge himself in this. Whatever this was.

* * *

 

Evening came in swiftly and Arthur bid Kiku good night. Arthur felt lighter than a feather; it had been so long since he could spend a day just having fun with a friend. Though that felt odd to him. He hadn’t had a friend in so long! Humming to himself, Arthur merrily poured himself a cup of tea and sat in his worn chair beside the window, watching the rain start to pour outside. Today was absolutely perfect. Nothing could ruin it now.

_Clink._

Arthur blinked, sitting up. Was that his mail slot? It was so late, though, why would he get a letter at this hour?

 _Maybe it might be the land lord, or Carriedo,_ Arthur mused to himself as he collected himself out of his chair and shuffled his way over to his door, picking up two letters from his mail slot. He had been partially correct. The first envelope was stamped with the Vargas family seal, but the second envelope was entirely unmarked, with no sender. Deciding to open the mafia envelope first, Arthur took a seat at his breakfast bar, opening it up with a pocket knife.

_Dear Mr. Kirkland,_

_Thank you for accepting our business proposition and for your patience. You shall meet with Carriedo at the Market Place on Thursday evening at 14:00 hours. The explicit details of the job will be given to you there._

_Yours, The Vargas Family._

That was sweet and to the point, like the last letter they gave him. Arthur committed the time and place to memory before burning the letter over his sink, like he had the last one. Now then, for the unmarked envelope… Frowning, Arthur picked it up, examining it front and back, and held it up to the light to see if he could discern its contents. It seemed to have a photo inside.

Deftly opening the envelope, Arthur pulled out the letter that was inside. It was written on a scrap of ordinary lined paper, in blotchy ink, the scrawl on it obviously written in a hurry. There were only two words on it: _Help Mathew._

‘Help Mathew’? Mathew was perfectly fine when he saw him a few days ago. Dread creeping over him, Arthur slowly pulled the photo out from the envelope, the back of it covered in ink smudges. Fingers beginning to tremble, he slowly turned the photo over, and felt he was going to be sick. Mathew was suspended into a green tank that was all too familiar to him; the hand writing was all too familiar to him now, and Arthur clutched at his kitchen counter, panicking. The company had caught up with him.


	5. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .....DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN

The thing that Alfred F. Jones first noticed in the Williams-Jones Household was that for the third day in a row, the house was disturbingly empty. He was used to the quiet and his elderly mother being at work (even though he’s assured her countless times that she could retire already) and Mathew being off at university, but…he was sure he should have seen his younger brother at some point in the day by now, right? And it shouldn’t even bother him all that much, Mathew often went out for several days to stay over at his friend’s place without saying anything…Yet, Alfred’s sixth sense (which his friends called bullshit on) made him feel that something was distinctly wrong. So, naturally, he had to investigate.

Calling in sick to work, Alfred combed back his hair and buttoned up his shirt as he rushed out the door, making a mental checklist of how to start his investigation. First, he would have to check with Mathew’s closest friends. From there, the university and the professors. Look at the places his brother most frequented…the pancake house, library, and park. His investigation would be complete when he would retrace all of the steps Mathew had taken on the day he was last seen.

Sucking in his pride but leaving enough room for his ego, Alfred knocked on the door of the unseemly brick house just across the street from his. Impatient, he knocked three more times in the span of thirty seconds.

“Da, da, I am coming! Who is it?”

Alfred scowled, but composed himself, “Hey, commie! It’s me, Alfred.”

“Ah. Fredka. What is it that you want? You are acting strange.”

“Is Mathew here? Or, around?”

“…no. Is something the matter with Matvey?”

“Wrong? No, no, nothing’s wrong. Sorry for bothering ya, I’ll go ask Carlos now.”

Hurrying on to the next house, Ivan raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Alfred, _apologizing_ to him? Something was definitely up.

* * *

 

“Alfred, you asshole! You owe me money! What do want?”

“Hahaha, good to see you too, Carlos! Have you seen Mathew?”

“Your lil bro? Nah, haven’t seen him since we played hockey at the park a few days ago. Why, is something wrong?”

“Whaaaat, who said anything about anything being wrong? Thanks anyways, I’ll go talk to Gilbert now.”

Carlos was just as suspicious of Alfred as Ivan was.

* * *

 

“Kesesese, His Awesomeness speaking! Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Alfred. Have you seen – “

“Oh, Alfred! It’s been so long! Come in, come in!”

“Ah, uh, thanks. Listen –“

“You want a beer, or talk about girls? The Awesome Trio needs to get back together!”

Alfred ground out in frustration, “Have you seen Mathew or not?!”

Gilbert flinched, blinking in confusion, “Ah, uh, Birdie? Nein, I have not seen him in a while…”

“Thank you!”

With that, Alfred stormed out, leaving Gilbert concerned and confused, like Ivan and Carlos.

* * *

 

None of the professors at the university had seen Mathew. In fact, they had even asked Alfred if Mathew was sick, he hadn’t been showing up to his classes. The librarian was concerned that Mathew hadn’t been visiting lately, and oddly enough, his books were overdue. The elderly lady who fed the birds at the park wondered to Alfred where the sweet boy who would bring her coffee to warm her up in the evenings was, and if he was alright. Red flags, everywhere. Where was his little brother?

Alfred kicked a rock across the street, sucking in harsh breaths, trying to keep his cool. There’s no way his brother would have been kidnapped, right? Mathew was too good. Bad things don’t happen to good people…right?

As he anxiously sped home, trying to outrun his impending panic attack, a flash of light from a shop window caught his eye. He had almost missed it in his rush, but he spun around, the café in the corner of the alley calling to him. His six sense seemed to tell him ‘ _Mattie definitely would have been here.’_ Opening the door with shaky fingers, Alfred roamed the facility over with his eyes, desperately hoping for some sort of clue.

“Oh, it’s nice to see you again!” the cashier called out to him suddenly, a friendly smile on her face. Alfred stared at her blankly. “Glad to have reoccurring business, it’s hard to get steady customers out here in this darned alley. Is your friend not here with you?”

“My…friend?”

“Yea, ya know, that British gent that everyone is raving over? Don’t worry, I didn’t tell no one,” she giggled. “What was his name again? Hm…ah, yeah! Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. Oops, probably shouldn’t say that too loud, never knew who’s listening.”

She giggled again, and alarm bells went off in Alfred’s head. His brother, angelic Mathew, with that criminal he had been chasing for the past three years? Before the cashier could ask him his name, Alfred was out the door of the café, bolting down the street. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and Alfred F. Jones was determined to find one Arthur A. Kirkland and make the jerk tell him where his younger brother was.

* * *

 

The first thing Mathew noticed when he woke up was that he was sore as hell. He was also cold as hell. The second thing he noticed was that he was not in his room with its worn blue wallpaper, but rather some sort of sterile environment, where everything was washed in white. The third thing that Mathew noticed, was that his glasses were missing. Groping the space around him, Mathew blindly reached about for his glasses, wary of the alien space around him. To his surprise, someone politely handed them to him.

“Uh…thank you,” Mathew mumbled out as he slowly put on his glasses, trying to recollect what had happened to him. Where the heck was he?

“No problem,” the person who handed them to him rumbled back, observing Mathew with a lop-sided grin.

Wary and unnerved, Mathew slowly looked around him, and froze up when he noticed more people than just the lumberjack in front of him watching him. There were two scientists watching him, both holding clipboards, as if they were waiting for something. Wait, was that…was one of those scientists Lukas, from his university?

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Matt, ain’t no one gonna hurt you here,” the lumberjack guy told him, and Mathew was disturbed by how similar they looked. This lumberjack looked just like Mathew – well, if Mathew were buff and could grow wicked facial hair.

The scientist beside Lukas scowled, scolding the person beside Mathew, “What are you talking about? You’re supposed to kill him.”

Alarmed, Mathew scrambled back from the man in front of him, falling onto the floor, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. He looked at Lukas, wide-eyed, for help, but Lukas looked away in guilt, the Norwegian prodigy rushing out the room.

“Nah.”

The remaining scientist and Mathew both looked at the lumberjack man, Mathew in worry and the scientist in confusion. Mathew realized he was holding his breath.

“Ex…E-excuse me?”

“I said, ‘nah’. I ain’t gonna kill him.”

Mathew felt like he was going to faint.

“What…what do you mean you’re not going to kill him? What is the meaning of this, Alec?”

Mathew gulped as ‘Alec’ knelt down beside him, the bulky man grinning and wrapping an arm around Mathew’s shoulder.

“Have you met this doe-eyed son of a bitch? Nah, I guess you haven’t, but I guess I would know better than you, we’re basically the same person. He’s adorable, fucking harmless…I ain’t gonna kill him, four-eyes,” Alec leaned in close, making intense eye contact with Mathew, “I don’t dare say it, but…I think I’m falling in love.”

The scientist groaned in annoyance while Mathew smiled nervously. This…well. This certainly took an unexpected turn of events, but the small Canadian boy was glad that it spared him his life.

The scientist seemed to decide that a lecture was in order.

“I don’t care what you want, that’s not the point of this project! The whole point of this project is to rid society of weak, insignificant citizens like that boy there and replace them with their betters! Now you listen here and – “

The scientist was cut short with a crunch and spurt of blood as Alec punched the scientist square in the face, Mathew squealing in fright. Alec scooped up Mathew and headed for the sole window of the laboratory as the scientist hit the ground, smiling at him.

“Don’t worry, chickadee! I’ll keep ya safe!”

Mathew screamed and shielded his face with his arms as Alec jumped out the window, glass raining down all around them, the two of them escaping the laboratory as alarms blared and the building went into lockdown. Mathew hoped that this stranger would keep his word.

* * *

 

It was hazy, dark, and Mathew found himself in a daze, tossing and turning in his sleep. Pleasant dreams wrapped around him, and Mathew wanted to hold onto his dreams, but a nagging at the back of his mind kept telling him that he should probably wake up. Memories of old started to weave into his dreams…

A kind blond man with a posh accent was brushing his hair, tutting at him for how messy it was. Another memory, but it was the same man, and he was smiling at Mathew proudly, praising him for solving a complicated maths question. In another memory, the man was cursing as he tried to get the smoke alarm to shut off, having failed at cooking yet again. What was his name? It was at the tip of his consciousness, teasing him…

The blond man had taught him French, to help him with his homesickness, and even read him bedtime stories from Quebec…he used to gift Mathew with detective novels and embroidered quilts, and knew at least how to make decent tea. Who was this man? Was he…was he Mathew’s older brother? No, no…this man…this man was his cousin. His cousin who had raised him and Alfred when their mum was at work. But what was his name? What was it…?

Arthur…

Mathew felt infinitely sad, struggling to breathe. Arthur…Arthur who?

Arthur…

But Arthur who?! Arthur what?!

Gasping, Mathew bolted upright, gulping down air greedily, scaring Alec, the large man falling onto his ass next to him. Arthur! Arthur A. Kirkland! That was his name! Making a strange sound of distress, Mathew chucked his glasses at the wall in anger, clutching at his face, clutching at his hair. Those men at the lab had tried to erase his memories! Those assholes at the lab had tried to try take away his childhood with Arthur! Mathew was a hole in the chess board that they were trying to fix, but it hadn’t worked, no, it hadn’t at all. And Mathew was absolutely **livid.**

“Uh, you…you alright there, chickadee? Seemed like you were having some rough dreams…”

Mathew glared up at him, angrily rubbing tears out of his eyes. “I’m fine. Where are we now? No, scratch that, who the hell are you?”

“I found us a nice little cottage in the countryside to hide in for a while. I’m Alec. You sure you’re alright there?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Mathew bit out at him. Hadn’t that scientist dude mentioned something about a project and Alec being Mathew’s better or other? The details of his kidnapping were slowly coming back to him. “I’ll ask again: who _are_ you?”

Alec sighed, a frown tugging at his face.

“I thought you had better manners than that, Mattie. How do I put this…? I’m your…what did the prez call it? I’m your 2P.”

“My… _what?”_

“Your…2P. I think it stands for ‘second player’.”

“So, you’re my better? My clone?”

“Now, I wouldn’t put it that way. I’m my own person, aren’t I? But I must say, there’s nothing better than the original,” Alec winked at Mathew. Mathew wondered if this was some weird form of narcissism.

“Hmph. So…Pancakes or bacon?”

Alec stared at him curiously, “Pancakes. With maple syrup.”

“Polar bears or puppies?”

“Polar bears, duh.”

“Hockey or American Football?”

Alec looked offended that Mathew had even asked that. Since Mathew still waited, Alec answered, “Hockey.”

“Preferred drink?”

“Something with maple in it.”

Mathew nodded to himself; it did seem like the scientist was right. But if the project was going well so far, and if Alec was his better and his copy, why the heck didn’t his 2P kill him?

“What is the square root of 364?”

“Using a calculator, that’d be about 19.0787, but I don’t think you need me to tell _you_ of all people that. You testing what the four eyes said? He was pretty much right, honestly; but like I said…there’s nothing like the original.”

“What are you?”

“This again? You’re hurting my feelings, Matt.”

“I said ‘what are you’, not ‘who are you’. Answer the question.”

“Fine, since you’re being so peachy this evening…,” Alec nervously laughed at Mathew’s glare, “Well, from my theoretical understanding of it…I’m something created from your DNA, some sorta serum, and science mumbo-jumbo, lots of formulas, I think it’d be up your alley. Ah, and this machine. Honestly, though, I don’t really think I’m a clone. I do think I’m my own person.”

Mathew sighed, tiredly leaning against the wall of the cottage.

“How long will we be stuck out here?”

“I dunno, given that the company will want their experiment, meaning moi, back…we probably will be stuck here a while.”

“Gee, real specific there, Alec.”

“Oh my gosh! You called me by my name!”

Mathew rubbed his temples, staring at the ceiling of their little hideaway, choosing to drown out Alec’s excited gushing by losing himself in his own thoughts. That building they had escaped from, the one that housed the hidden laboratory…it was all too familiar to him. He saw it on a daily basis, passed by it every time he went to school, and Mathew had even entered it’s very halls to visit his brother at work and bring him his packed lunch whenever Alfred had forgotten it…the logo haunted him now as he remembered the scene of his and Alec’s escape through that lab window, the logo screeching at him through all that glass. And suddenly Mathew realized that that company must be the reason why no one could remember Artie, and why he had gone missing for three years. All because of that stupid company…everything was the fault of that company…

The Magnum Hetalia Company.


	6. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred is tired of this shit. Arthur meets the mafia (pt 2).

A muggy morning to match his mood, Arthur strolled his way through the busy market square to where he was to meet Antonio. He was on edge, the tips of his nails misshapen from where he kept biting them as he worried over what might be happening to Mathew at that very moment. If the photo was any clue, Arthur knew his former workplace had taken in Mathew to probably erase his memory of Arthur, like they had done to the rest of his loved ones and colleagues; he hoped against all odds that they didn’t do anything else to Mattie. He hoped that out of everything they would do with his cousin, they wouldn’t involve him in the 2P Project.

Ever since the company president told Arthur about the project, Arthur was curious. A project to create soldiers so that the civilian population wouldn’t have to partake in war? A better protector for humanity? It sounded almost too good to be true. The company president had confided in Arthur, since Arthur was the best officer in the company. He was genuinely excited about what he could do to help the Republic of England, with his company backing the police force.

A few weeks had passed in which Arthur had his regular duties as an officer, working alongside Antonio and Francis at the office. Then the president came and told him that he wanted to introduce Arthur to the scientist behind the project. Lukas Bondevik, a prodigy who had graduated from university young. The moment that Arthur met the poor boy, he could tell that the Norwegian was there against his will. After the president had left them alone together, Lukas had rushed in a mess to tell Arthur the truth behind the 2P Project; he urged Arthur to do something about it, because he was under chains himself.

So Arthur did, and stole the documents behind the project and tried to deliver them to a government office. But he never knew if they were delivered, and the company president knew of his betrayal already, for when he had arrived home that day, his aunt and cousin Alfred had looked at him like he was a stranger. Mathew wasn’t home, Alfred tried to arrest him, and when he tried to go Francis’s flat, he tried to arrest him too. Arthur had been on the run ever since.

“Kirkland? Can you hear me? _Dios mio,_ if you’re ignoring me, it isn’t funny.”

Arthur blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Right. He was meeting with Antonio for the mafia job.

“Sorry. I was…thinking,” Arthur muttered, looking up at Antonio. He was obviously annoyed. Arthur smiled to himself a little; even though Antonio didn’t remember their history together, he still seemed to hate Arthur just as much as he did before.

“Follow me. And don’t lag,” Antonio grunted, leading the way to a quaint restaurant in the second floor of a lavish hotel, “The family owns this hotel, so no one should be able to get in without a reservation.”

Arthur followed him to a table already waiting for them, the entire restaurant booked just for them. Arthur sat, waiting for Antonio to start talking. It seemed like the Spaniard let out his grouchy side just for him.

“My boss thinks we have something of mutual interest that he wants you to help him with. Are you aware of the Magnum Hetalia?”

“Yes. I am. Their officers have only been pursuing me for the entirety of, let’s say, three years.”

Antonio scowled at him.

“Are you aware of the company’s…underground proceedings?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Stop beating around the bush, Carriedo, and just tell me what the family wants. I already know all about the black market deals the company makes, where they source the materials for their labs and experiments, and their weapons projects and who works for them and who doesn’t. How do you think I became a criminal? I’ve spent the past three years sabotaging them.”

Antonio pursed his lips, “Then you know about the 2P Project, then?”

“How does the family know about that?”

“We have connections on the inside.”  
“Ah, I see, you still work for the company.”

“…how do you know that?”

“It’s none of your concern. Now, is this mutual interest between us the 2P Project?”

“Yes. The younger sibling of my boss was kidnapped by the company recently, and we want him back. After I investigated into the company, I saw that for whatever reason, you had files under the 2P Project DNA testing bank, and the boss decided you were the one person to help him.”

Arthur sat up straight in alarm, “How long ago was your boss’s sibling kidnapped?”

“About two weeks prior to your arrival in London. We had trouble figuring out who took him at first, and then trying to figure out what they did with him.”

“Antonio…how much about the project does the family know?”

“They know that they plan to make clones out of civilians to make better humans, but…”  
Arthur shook his head, wild-eyed, “Antonio, the clones are designed to kill their originals immediately. If we’re lucky…the boss’s sibling isn’t dead yet.”

Antonio blanched, “Th-then – “

“I’ll help you, but you have to help me.”

“Of course, the family is prepared to compensate you in any way. If you need money or a new identity, or – “

“No. When go to rescue the boss’s sibling, you have to help me rescue my cousin, Mathew.”

Antonio blinked.

“You…have family?”

“Yes.”

“The…the records, they…”

“They’re false. Are you going to help me or not? We’ll have no deal if that’s the case. Also…it’s highly likely the person you want to rescue will be dead already.”

“We…we have a deal. The family will go through any lengths to get Feliciano back.”

The two shook hands and made their separate ways outside the building.

* * *

 

“Mr. Kirkland has made his way outside the building sir, the one owned by the Vargas Family. I have reason to believe that they will be plotting something against the company soon.”

“Excellent, just as I expected. Also, I’m glad you’re getting used to using a phone more often, it’s quite refreshing. Make sure you report to your head officer about this, he’s been antsy about what you’ve been doing lately.”

“…yes, sir.”

* * *

 

Alfred F. Jones has not had any sleep in the past three days, and he was pretty sure he was crazy at this point as he shimmied out the airducts of the Vargas Family Resort and Spa. Since when were he and _Arthur Kirkland_ cousins? Since when did the company kidnap his baby brother? _Why_ did they kidnap his baby brother? What the heck was this 2P Project they were talking about? And Antonio was a _double agent?_ This was too much for him to take him in on zero sleep.

Stumbling into the officer division of the Magnum Hetalia Company building, Alfred slumped into his chair and stared at the ceiling, all these questions giving him a headache. The company did black market deals? They had a weapons program? Since when there labs, especially ones that did illegal experiments? Also, where the heck was Kiku? His best friend hadn’t been talking to him for too long, and Alfred really wanted to talk to him about this mess with Mathew and the company.

Alfred groaned; he needed sleep.

“ _Bon matin_ , Alfred, the president – _mon dieu,_ what happened to you? You look like you’ve been hit by a truck!”

Alfred weakly glared, running a hand down his face, “Nothing, ‘m fine. Just need some coffee. What about the president, Francis?”

“He, uh, wanted to see you. Something about your brother? I’ll have a cup waiting for you – “Alfred had already bolted out the office, “– when you get back…”

* * *

 

“Alfred! Pleasure to see you as always,” his boss jovially greeted. Alfred could only nod, too depleted of energy.

“Now, now, why do you look so down? There’s no reason for you to be down, is there?”

Alfred hesitated; his boss ought to be trustworthy, right? There would be no way that his boss would be in on his brother’s kidnapping…right?

“What is it, Alfred? You can tell me anything. I need my best officer at peak performance!”

“…w-well…sir…I, uh…”

“Call me Mathias! Don’t I always tell you that? We graduated from the force together, after all.”

Alfred laughed nervously, “Right, Mathias. I, uh…I haven’t slept in three days. And, uh…my little bro…my little bro has gone missing. I’m going crazy! And I thought that Kirkland might have kidnapped my baby bro, my bro was always too curious about that crook for his own good, and I followed Kirkland into the Vargas Hotel, but…oh, this is crazy…”

“Go on, Alfred. Perhaps I can be of help with your younger brother. Though entering mafia territory on your own was very foolish.”

Alfred sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know. It’s just…Kirkland and that other dude he was talking with…they made it sound like…the company had kidnapped Mattie and one of the Vargas heads.”

Mathias hummed, and Alfred thought that for a moment, the Dane’s eyes had turned sinister and malicious. Blinking, all he saw again was the ever-cheery Mathias, and Alfred decided it was just him being sleep deprived.

“You must have misunderstood the situation. We arrested the Vargas boy because he was a mafia member; and, unfortunately, Alfred…your younger brother has become an accomplice to the biggest international criminal in history.”

“Mattie would never – he’s never done anything wrong in his life! My brother is not a criminal!”

Mathias sighed sympathetically, patting his shoulder, “I wish I could believe you, Alfred, but…your brother made an escape yesterday morning with another criminal. Would an innocent man run? Now go on home, and rest. I’m sure this is a lot to take in, Alfred. I’ll even give you a few days to rest. I need my best officer at peak performance, always.”

With that, Mathias left, and Alfred was dismissed for the day. His head hurt more than ever before, and he still had more questions than answers. What was the 2P Project? Why was his brother a criminal now – he wasn’t dumb, he knew Mathew could never be a criminal – and was Arthur aware that Mathew had broken out on his own? Also, if Mattie was innocent…why had he run? Alfred was too tired for all this shit.


	7. The Agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for a dashing rescue and a sprinkle of a plot twist.

Rain hit the cobblestone streets in a soft pitter-patter, and citizens wove out of each other’s way to head for shelter. Peeking out from underneath his umbrella, a certain agent decided he would rather wait out the weather than continue walking lest the rain turn more intense; his target seemed to be doing the same in the distance. Stepping into a pub, he smiled at the warmth of the old-style building. This place was archaic, with brick walls and wooden furniture, but he liked the places that kept with the classics.

“Can I get anything for ya, chappie?” asked the bartender, wiping down the counter. Not many people visited old shops like these anymore.

“Ah, no thank you, I am waiting out the weather,” he responded politely, staying by the window. The radio was mostly static, but a cheery newswoman was talking about how she was impatient for the New Year’s celebration in just two months, for 2053 surely had to trump 2052.

“Is a shame, ain’t it? Nice bit o’ sunshine before the rain started,” the bartender tried to continue conversation. The old man probably didn’t get the opportunity to talk with others much.

“Yes, it is. I’m glad that I had an umbrella on me.”

“Huh, that’s one of them ones boasting the good old Union Jack. Thought they didn’t sell those no more,” the bartender observed.

“Oh, yes, it was hard to find this one. I like the classics.”

His target was acting suspicious in the distance. He had a companion with him today, too. How odd.

“Good eye on ya, lad. Ain’t nothing been the same since the United Kingdom become the Republic of England. I blame them foreign investments. Companies practically run everything now! I never thought I’d live to see the day a company own the police force of the country. What was that damned name again? The Magnus somethin’ or other…,” the old bartender rambled, obviously passionate about this.

The agent awkwardly smiled, “The Magnum Hetalia Company.”

“Yes, that’s it there! Ah…yer one of them officers…,” the bartender observed the agent’s badge poking out from his overcoat, paling in fear. The agent opened his umbrella at the doorstep. His welcome seemed to be overstayed.

“Yes, I am. It was pleasant talking to you,” he said goodbye, looking back the old bartender, “and don’t worry…I’m not on official duty today.”

It’s true, he wasn’t. He was on an undercover job to keep an eye on Arthur Kirkland, who was his priority; and for some reason, his priority had just snuck into the Magnum Hetalia Co. building instead of taking the left street home.

* * *

 

“Carriedo, you in position?”

“All set, Kirkland.”

“Alright. On the count of one…two…three,” he whispered into his comms device, lowering himself from the air vent into the laboratory of the company building. Its pristine walls were all too familiar to him, although that broken window was certainly new. Checking his surroundings, and finding them devoid of any other personnel, Arthur motioned for Antonio to follow. The two men kept close to the shadows of the lab as they looked for their two targets.

They neared the part of the lab that matched the photo that Arthur had received asking for him to help Mathew days before – two large green tanks, glowing ominously. This must be the area where the experiments were conducted. Exchanging nods with Antonio, Arthur slowly approached the tanks, finding that the green tanks were filled with a gel-like substance. One held a person he didn’t recognize in suspended animation, but the other was empty. He would help whoever this poor strawberry-blond was, but without knowing the science behind the experiment, he couldn’t risk removing the stranger without the possibility of some harmful side effects.

Antonio moved in behind him, looking for anything suspicious that might be hidden nearby.

“Kirkland!”

Forgetting about the stranger he had found and rushing over, Arthur gasped at the cage Antonio had found. It was barely large enough to fit two people, and was crusted over with dried blood and human excrements. A bony boy was curled up in the corner of the cage, staring at them with wild magenta eyes.

“Is that…is that him, Carriedo…?”

“Yes, he…that has to be him…”

The boy looked very untrusting of them.

“Try calling out to him…He must be very stressed. He might even think that we’re imposters.”

Nodding somberly, Antonio cautiously extended a hand to the boy.

“Feliciano, it’s okay now…We’re here to help you.”

“…Antonio…?”

“ _Si,_ it’s me,” he gave Feliciano a goofy smile that eased all the tension out of him. Feliciano slowly took his hand and crawled out the cage. He was skittish of everything around them, and followed quickly as Arthur and Antonio ushered him to the air vent. Antonio helped Feliciano up first, then followed him. The Spaniard scowled when Arthur didn’t follow.

“Kirkland, _what are you doing_?”

“The deal was that you would help me find Mathew!” he shouted in response as he frantically turned the cage upside down. Where was his little Mattie? Was…was the dried blood Mathew’s? No, no, his cousin had to be in another cage nearby…

Antonio cursed above him and lowered himself back out the air vent to help Arthur when the alarms went off and the lab was awash in red light.

“Now what did you do!”

“I didn’t do anything! Help me find Mattie!”

Feliciano whimpered in the air vents above them.

“I don’t think he’s here!”

“Of course he’s here, he has to be –“

“Kirkland!” dozens of officers filled the small laboratory around them and Antonio was dragging him into the air vent as he continued to argue, most of his words lost to the sound of Feliciano crying and the gun shots and shattering chemistry equipment beneath them. Antonio forced the two of them along as the officers began to shoot at the air vents.

“Mathew is in there! You left him for dead!”

“ _Tu primo – ugh –_ your cousin isn’t there!”

“Mathew can’t be dead!”

“You said yourself that the clones were programmed to kill! Now shut up and help me get Feliciano into the car!”

“You broke our deal, Carriedo!”

Feliciano wailed while Antonio strapped the traumatized boy into the car.

“We had no deal in the first place! You saw the blood in that cage!”

“Mattie isn’t dead, he can’t be!”

Antonio slammed on the accelerator and glared at Arthur as the Brit’s head banged against the chair from the sudden burst of speed.

“He. Wasn’t. There.”

“He’s. Not. Dead.”

Antonio grumbled and sped to the Vargas Resort and Spa to the sound of sirens and arguing behind him.

* * *

 

“It was as you had reported, Agent H – “

“Please, sir, don’t give me any credit! Even though I reported to you that Mr. Kirkland had infiltrated the building, I was too late, and we couldn’t even arrest him, sir…”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Mathias reassured his prized undercover agent. “You actually did excellent work today, Agent H – “

“B-But I – “

“Hush. You may have not been able to arrest him or his accomplice, but you did an excellent job. Why do I say this? Because with your help, I was able to lay a trap that will not only bring the down fall of Arthur Kirkland, but also the Vargas Family Mafia. Now be proud of yourself, Agent Honda.”

“…y-yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go on with your assignment, Honda.”

“Yes, sir…,” Kiku turned to leave, his heart heavy with the weight of his responsibilities.

“Oh, and Honda?”

“Y-yes, sir?” Kiku turned back to face Mathias.

“Don’t forget your mission objective, Kiku. Your goal is to steal his secrets. Not befriend him.”

Kiku gulped, a cold sweat dripping down his back.

“Yes, sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

Kiku Honda treaded home with a heart heavier than the rain that pounded onto the cobblestone streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this way more popular on fanfiction.net than ao3???


	8. Who to Trust?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya can't trust nobody.

Alfred bolted up in bed at one in the morning with a sudden revelation that was eating him up from the inside out. When he last talked to his boss, Mathias… The Dane had told him that he’d do anything to help him find Mathew after he had told him that Mattie was missing, but after he told Mathias what he had overheard Arthur talking about, Mathias switched to the story that Mathew had been arrested as an accomplice and escaped. Those two responses weren’t connected, they didn’t agree with each other…

Alfred bolted awake again at three in the morning. If Mathias was lying to him, that means he wasn’t to be trusted. The company itself wasn’t to be trusted. But he had grown up idolizing the company, the company was the law, and its police force was the best out of any other nation in Europe. And if the best lies were partial truths, and Mathew had escaped…

Alfred bolted awake for the third time at six in the morning to the smell of his mom brewing coffee as she got ready for work. Did that mean that Arthur did not know that Mathew escaped? Alfred would need to do some investigating when he would be permitted to re-enter work…

* * *

 

Arthur, on the other side of town, was in the midst of another tantrum of anger. Most of the furniture in his flat was overturned, papers were scattered throughout his living room, and there were tea stains and shattered ceramic scattered throughout his carpet. The Brit shakily sighed, clutching at his hair as he slid to the floor from his couch, his shaky breathing soon dissolving into broken sobs, the photograph of Mathew in the green tank fluttering to the floor. His precious baby cousin was missing, Antonio was convinced that Mathew was dead, and with no evidence to prove otherwise, Arthur was starting to feel like he was drowning in hopelessness. Just as he was about to spiral into the train of thoughts, that this was all his fault, he should have pretended he never saw Mathew, he’s the reason why Mathew was kidnapped, Mathew was killed because of him, it was all his fault, _all his fault…_ there was a knocking at his door.

Knocking on his door…? Oh, right…he had a neighbor…

“A-Arthur…? Are you…are you alright?”

Arthur honestly didn’t even the energy to get up or respond. Observing his surroundings, he felt even more drained. How had he even had the energy to make this kind of mess? Suddenly, he felt ashamed as well; destroying furniture because you’re angry isn’t the behavior of a grown adult. He didn’t want Kiku to see him like this either, especially with the state he left his flat in.

“Arthur…?”

Sighing, Arthur breathed in slowly, his chest shuddering.

“I…I’m fine, Kiku. Just…a bit pre-occupied…”

There was silence on the other side of the door for a few moments.

“Would you…like to talk about it?”

That…that actually sounded nice. Mustering what he could of himself, Arthur slowly pulled himself off of the floor.

“That…that sounds nice. Can we…talk at your place?”

“Ah…yes. If that would make you more comfortable.”

Hissing as he nicked a finger on one of the ceramic shards on his carpet, Arthur picked up the photo of Mathew before opening the door. He scowled; Kiku was taken aback by his disheveled appearance, and he had smudged the photo of Mathew with blood. If Kiku had any reserves about his appearance, he didn’t say it or betray in his expression, respectfully leading Arthur to his own flat.

While Arthur took a seat at Kiku’s low-rise table, Kiku poured him some tea, before sitting across from him. Frowning softly, Kiku fretted over the man before him. Arthur was always impeccable in how he presented himself, a proud man, and nothing ever affected him. But the man before him…was different from the neighbor he had become to befriend. Arthur was slouching, his hair lacked its usual shine, and his eyes were dull. Were those…tears? Arthur had been crying…

“He…he was so young…”

Startled from his thoughts, Kiku made eye contact with Arthur as he finally spoke. He waited for Arthur to continue.

“He…my cousin has been missing for some time now. I’ve been looking for him, and I…I had thought that I had found him, but when I went to go…to the place where I thought he might have been, he…he wasn’t there…I…,” Arthur sighed, gripping at the tea cup Kiku had given him, “My…colleague thinks he might be dead, but I…h-he can’t be dead!”

Kiku flinched at the sudden raise in volume. Arthur had never raised his voice in front of him before. From the way he was talking, it also seemed to him that he was unsure if he should reveal about the mafia and the infiltration of the MHC building to Kiku.

“I…I see. That’s very heavy…Um…I don’t mean to be insensitive, but…I…I didn’t realize you had family…”

Arthur laughed bitterly, and there was a darkness in his eyes that suddenly made Kiku scared. It made him want to hold Arthur and keep him away from the darkness in his eyes.

“That’s what mass media wants you to think. But I do have family…not that they know it…”

Kiku found himself confused, and wanted to ask what he meant by that, but Arthur kept talking.

“Both of my cousins are younger than me. One of them wanted to follow after me and went to the academy to train to be an officer. The other was… _is_ a mathematics genius. He’s still attending university, for his doctorates…I raised them. I raised them since they were toddlers, which was hard because I’m only two years older than Alfred. Their mother was always working, as were my elder brothers…”

Kiku felt like the air was sucked out of him. Arthur used to be an officer? He had that big of a family? Why wasn’t that on his file? Or on his records? But more importantly…

“…Alfred?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, Alfred Jones. Ironic, isn’t it? My cousin is the one officer who’s hellbent on arresting me.”

Kiku’s head hurt, he was so confused. Did the company have false information? Or…

“May I…may I ask the name of the cousin who went missing?”

Arthur clenched tight the photograph he was holding, and Kiku suddenly noticed that Arthur’s hand was bleeding. He found himself terrified to hear the answer.

“Mathew…Mathew Williams…”

Kiku felt like he had been punched in the stomach. Then he saw the photo in Arthur’s hand, the young blond man that he had brought in to the company without question at his boss’s command…Kiku went positively pale.

“Kiku…are you alright? Did you…did you know Mattie?”

All Kiku could hear was static. The reason Arthur was hurting so much was because his cousin was missing. His cousin was the boy he had brought into the company because his boss told him to. His boss had told him that they just wanted the boy for questioning, to know what connections to Arthur…so why was the same boy stuck in a suspicious green tank in the photo that Arthur was clutching on to for dear life?

“Kiku? Hello?”

Mouth dry, Kiku couldn’t think of a response, but he didn’t have to. His mail slot _clinked_ open and in fluttered in a letter. Both he and Arthur froze. There was no post on Sundays. Tentatively reaching out, Kiku picked up the letter, and was overwhelmed with relief that it wasn’t from the company. But…

“It’s…it’s addressed to you, Arthur.”

Surprised, Arthur took the proffered letter, and upon seeing who had signed it, immediately opened it, and stared at the note within.

“…Arthur…?”

Looking up from the note, Arthur gave him a crooked smile, as if trying to keep from crying. Shocked, Kiku rushed to his side, and Arthur slumped against him, Arthur clutching Kiku’s shirt as he began to cry. Worried, Kiku quickly picked up the letter in its familiar, neat print.

**_He is safe. He is alive. I must speak to you about the project, soon. – Lukas_ **

Arthur was crying happy tears…he…he was crying happy tears. Exhaling slowly, Kiku gently patted Arthur’s back, cheeks coloring when he realized how close to him Arthur was. Lukas…Lukas…oh! Wasn’t…isn’t that the name of the boss’s fiancé? Kiku looked down at Arthur, who had fallen asleep against him, his energy spent. Kiku bit his lip, looking around at his surroundings, before carefully examining the envelope for anything else hidden within it. He found another note, carefully folded, but it was addressed to him. Lukas worked in the labs of the company; how could he possibly know who Kiku, an undercover specialist, was?

**_Trust in Arthur. Don’t trust Mathias. Stop working for the company. – Lukas_ **

Swallowing thickly, Kiku burned the note, careful to not disturb Arthur’s sleep. Burdened with guilt and more questions than answers, Kiku’s shut his eyes tight, finally shedding tears himself. What had this job gotten him into? And who could he truly trust?


	9. Lukas Bondevik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backstory time!

It wasn’t always like this. He could still remember the days when _he_ was here. _He_ made the world brighter, made the world seem more promising than it really was with just his smile. They had been engaged to be married in November. Everything had seemed right with the universe when _he_ had been here. Now that _he_ was gone, the whole world was hollow. So utterly drained and empty…

Whenever Lukas would walk, the shadows around him seemed to always be trying to swallow him whole, now that _he_ was gone. Laughter from old memories he had of _him_ haunted him every time Lukas was alone. The worst torture, though, are the nightmares…

_“What’s the worst that could happen?” he had said._

Really, what _could_ have been the worst? They had expected the experiment to fail, at the very least, or for it to succeed with minor side effects, at most – things like headache, muscle pain, maybe dizziness. Minor things…

But the universe has its workings: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. But it went much worse than Lukas would have ever expected.

Ah, here was that dream of his again…he’s been having it every night lately, since he was forced to pick up the pace of the 2P Project…

_“What’s the worst that can happen?” he grinned, ruffling Lukas’s hair. “You worry too much! I’ll be fine, Luke.”_

_Frowning nervously, Lukas nodded, helping Mathias into the green tank chamber. He tried to talk Mathias out of it again._

_“Y-you know, there are plenty of willing volunteers, y-you don’t have to do it yourself. W-we don’t really know what could happen to you.”_

_He gave Lukas that one smile that always warmed his cheeks even if the Norwegian tried to deny it. The smile did little to ease the tension out of him, however._

_“It’ll be fine,” Mathias reassured, kissing his forehead. “I trust in your genius, Luke.”_

_Biting his lip, his gut twisting in apprehension, Lukas nodded. Mathias gave him another smile, and motioned for Lukas to close the chamber door._

_“I’ll see you soon, Luke. Smile, okay? You know I like it best when you smile.”_

_Before he closed the chamber door, and lamely attempting a smile, Lukas blurted out, “I love you!”_

_The Dane, his Mathias, laughed that beautiful laugh of his. It only washed away some of his worries away, and Mathias gave him another kiss._

_“I love you too, Lukas.”_

_Closing the chamber door, Lukas rushed over to his computer station, swallowing thickly. He just had to trust in what Mathias had told him. Inputting the commands into the computer, he looked back up at Mathias. Mathias gave him the thumbs up to proceed, and Lukas inputted the final command._

_Smoke burst out from within the green tank chamber, and Lukas cried out, rushing over and frantically hauling the door open. The smoke most definitely was **not** supposed to happen._

_“Mathias! Mathias, are you okay? What happened?”_

_The smoke seemed to clog his nose, his throat, his lungs, the smoke was drowning him, his voice wasn’t coming from his body, and his feet were starting to soak in something sickeningly warm…_

_“M..M-Mathias…?”_

_The stench of iron was starting to mix in with the smoke, and his eyes stung, and he couldn’t breathe. Where was his Mathias?_

_“Mathias, answer me!”_

_A lone figure rose from the smoke, and Lukas squinted, taking a tentative step forward. The figure in the smoke was holding something large and dripping…its red eyes met with Lukas’s panicked ones._

_“You look distraught, Luke…come closer, it’s okay…come see that I’m alright…”_

_Unnerved and struggling to breath, Lukas approached, waving away the smoke. His shoes were squelching in a puddle that seemed to be too thick to be the chemicals from the experiment, and he tensed, finding himself before the person who had called out to him._

_“M…athias…?”_

_He…he was Mathias, but there was a wrongness about him. His smile wasn’t kind and warm, it was cold and cruel…his eyes weren’t light and blue, they were red and dark… Eyes following the man’s before him, they both stared at what the man was holding, and Lukas screamed, falling back and landing in the puddle of blood around him. Only a shredded carcass of his beloved Mathias remained, body parts and bits of skin and bone strewn about the chamber. The only part of his love that he could recognize was the head of his precious Mathias, still stuck in an expression of shock, being held from the scalp by the monster before him._

_Lukas began to asphyxiate, and the monster wearing Mathias’s looks laughed and kneeled in front of him, leaning forward until his lips tickled against Lukas’s ear. He whispered to him, in a voice clipped and exactly like that of his late Mathias,_

_“Love you, Luke. What’s the worst that can happen…?”_

Lukas woke up in a silent scream, panting, fists ripping at his bed sheets, his body sticky with cold sweat. Blinking away the panic, Lukas struggled to control his breathing, coming back to reality slowly. He had this nightmare of a memory so often now, because of the forced acceleration of the 2P Project, that Lukas couldn’t remember the last time he could properly use his voice.

“What’s wrong, Luke?” the imposter beside him cooed, gently moving Lukas’s hair out of his face. Lukas turned his back on him, closing his eyes tight and releasing a shuddering sigh, curling in on himself. No matter how many locks and barricades he put in his room, that monster always found a way in. He didn’t understand why the monster had a need to ask that question every time, the monster already knew what was wrong. Lukas supposed he liked to boast about it sometimes.

“Did you have that silly dream again? Oh, my poor Luke,” he cooed again, bringing Lukas into his arms. Lukas did not respond, numbing himself to this moment as he did every day. Lukas was pretty sure by this point, three years since the day that set everything in motion, that this was his divine punishment for trying to alter nature, for trying to manipulate it.

“You’re too sentimental, my Luke. But Magnus is here. You need not remember those ghosts of the past…we’ll create a better society together, and be rid of those other nuisances trying to stand before us,” he whispered to him.

Lukas felt as though he was going to vomit, with that monster twisting around the words that his Mathias used to tell him before it all went wrong.

“Sleep tight, my sweet,” the first 2P murmured to him, using the voice that used to make Lukas weak when Mathias was alive. Lukas clenched his fists, biting his lip, sleep lost to him while the 2P remained watching him. He was trapped in a hell of his own creation, and this was all Lukas’s fault, all his fault…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hurt me pls


	10. Safe House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mathew is okay and Arthur reunites with his cousin.

“I woke up at five this morning to make all these god damn pancakes, Alec. And I expect you to eat every last one them,” Mathew threatened his new living buddy with his plastic spatula and yellow apron, glaring. Alec gulped, intimidated. This is what he gets for continuously bothering the soft-spoken Canadian every day for the fluffy treats, and now he cowered under the sheer mountain of pancakes his original had created.

“Can I…can I at least get syrup?”

Mathew glowered at him and Alec gulped.

“I risked being taken again to get _myself_ maple syrup. Fuck no you can’t have any.”

Mathew took his own healthy stack of pancakes and drowned them in maple while Alec morosely resigned himself to eating stack upon stack of pancakes dry. Looking out the cottage window, Mathew’s mood soured further.

“How long am I stuck with you again?”

“Well, chickadee – “

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, babe,” Alec ducked as Mathew threw the spatula at him, “But to answer your question, we’re pretty much stuck together in hiding indefinitely.”

“What a load of bull,” Mathew muttered as he grabbed himself another stack of pancakes.

“At least you have me for company,” Alec winked.

“Oh, woe is me,” Mathew rolled his eyes. Alec pouted.

“The next time we need food, you go out. People don’t really know you that well. Plus, if you need to, you can at least beat up the officers.”

“How many times do I keep having to say sorry about making you sneak out to get pancake mix?”

“Until you’re groveling at my feet.”

Alec winced and sighed. His original was gorgeous, but so passive aggressive. He hoped one day Mathew would come around to him one day. Perhaps he should try new pickup lines.

“I’m going to shower. Don’t spy on me again.”

Mathew left the room and Alec sulked, staring at all the pancakes he still had left to finish. They were like this every day, Mathew glowering at him during each meal, Alec keeping watch over their surroundings, and one of the two of them occasionally sneaking out to stock up on food. Their routine was starting to get boring, and just when they thought they could relax, that the company didn’t care about them anymore, some officers tried to arrest Mathew while he was getting pancake mix and syrup.

Frowning at the number of pancakes he still had left to eat, Alec reached out slowly for the syrup, but was hit in the head by Mathew’s sneaker. Sighing, he continued eating his pancakes dry. His thoughts for a moment went back to the company, and he wondered how the guys he had left behind were doing. He could have at least saved –

“Alec! Alec, get over here! There’s a roach in the tub! Gross, gross, gross! Hurry up and kill it!”

Laughing, Alec hurried over and killed the roach for his Mattie, about to tease him for his half-naked state, when they heard knocking at the front door. They both froze in place and went deathly quiet, exchanging eye contact. This cottage was obviously abandoned, and there were no neighbors for miles. The knocking was not a coincidence.

Picking up a hockey stick Alec and Mathew had found days earlier in one of the cottage’s dusty rooms, Alec cautiously approached the door and peered through the peep hole. The person standing there didn’t look like any officer he had seen before, and they weren’t wearing the company uniform or emblem. Frowning, he quietly motioned to the door, and Mathew snuck over and had a look for himself. His expression was momentarily one of relief when he saw who was on the other side of the door, then one of confusion.

“Do you know that is?” Alec whispered.

“Yea, I do,” Mathew whispered back, “It’s my classmate, Lovino, but I don’t understand why he…”

Losing himself in thought, Mathew looked back through the peep hole, wondering if he should trust the person who looked to be Lovino on the other side of the door. Lovino seemed to be arguing with someone.

“Alec, how can you tell a 2P from the original?”

Alec hummed, rubbing his chin, “There’s always some sort of psychical difference in appearance. It’s hard for the prez to get us to look like our original. Like, I’m buff, but you’re not? It’d be something like the eye color, or the complexion, or hair.”

Mathew scrutinized the Lovino in front of him, but could not trust himself to determine if this Lovino was a 2P or not. It had been too long since he had seen his friend. The Lovino outside the door seemed to have finished the argument he was having and pushed the person in front of the door; Mathew’s breath caught in his throat and he threw open the door without hesitation, startling both Alec and Lovino as he jumped onto Arthur in a big hug.

“Artie!”

Arthur looked like he was going to cry as he caught his younger cousin, holding him close,

“Oh, Mathew! You’re alright, you’re alright! You’re alright…”

The two of them looked up at each other and burst into tears, Alec and Lovino awkwardly shuffling their feet. Lovino cleared his throat, looking at their surroundings warily.

“Kirkland, I know you just found your cousin and all, but we’re kinda in the open…I think it’d be best if we hurried to the safe house.”

Arthur smiled limply, wiping his eyes, “Yes, yes, of course. Come along Mattie, we’ll take you someplace safe. They won’t get us there.”

“What about me?” Alec piped up, frowning at the whole situation.

“Oh, you must be Mathew’s 2P…”

“ _Dios mio,_ I know that scientist friend of yours said we could trust him, but he looks like he can bash in our skulls and make it look like an accident.”

“Alec has been helping me all this time, Artie! He helped me escape the lab,” Mathew inserted, smiling for the first time at Alec.

“Psh, was nothing,” Alec kicked a rock, cheeks pink.

“…let’s just get to the car, the good feelings in the air is gonna make me puke,” Lovino grumbled, rushing them along to the car. A police squad stormed the cottage soon after the car sped through the country side.

“How did you find us, Arthur? You just seemed to show up out of nowhere…”

“Well, I had some help from an old friend.”

He left it at that and they were silent for the rest of the ride.

* * *

 

They arrived at the Vargas Resort and Spa and Mathew was flabbergasted at how nice their ‘safe house’ was. Following Arthur and Lovino inside, he observed his surroundings, frowning. There were armed men in suits everywhere, and suspicious looking homeless crooks, and even high-profile celebrities, all mixing together in the lobby. Mathew noticed someone moving through the second-floor walkway and thought that must be Feliciano coming to greet them. Alec kept close to Mathew, nervous around strangers but trying to keep up a tough façade by scowling at everyone.

Some of the armed men conversed with Lovino and Arthur, and Lovino handed Mathew a pair of keys.

“This is the key to the room you’ll be staying in. You will be staying here with my family until Arthur thinks it’s safe for you to go back home to your own family. That 2P of yours will be staying here too, since that scientist guy says he’s okay.”

“Uh, thanks, Lovino…um…can I ask, what your connection to Arthur is? I didn’t know you knew my cousin. You always said you didn’t know him when I asked people.”

Lovino sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “That’s a conversation for another time. I’ll have to tell you later. Go up to your room already, someone might see you through the windows. Also, you might wanna put some clothes on.”

 Mathew watched Lovino walk off to return to talking with Arthur and the men in suits, and frowned. He wished someone would explain his situation to him. He was already involved.

“Let’s go to our new room, chickadee,” Alec nudged him, to which Mathew remembered how much he found his 2P annoying, and how he was still in just his boxers, and stomped on his foot, walking off to find his new room without him, red-faced.

* * *

 

Finally, in new, clean clothes, Mathew explored this ‘safe house’ of a resort he was in, making sure he was in the halls that were windowless so that he wouldn’t get his friend in trouble for harboring a criminal if anyone were to see him through a window. Most of the people seemed to be concentrated in the lobby, the only people he saw on the second and third floors were family members he didn’t know Lovino had, or maids. Making his way to the fourth floor, he saw a face he hadn’t seen in just as long as Lovino’s.

“Feliciano! How are you?”  
The Italian flinched, dropping his pasta, “Oh, Mathew, you scared me! Look, I dropped my pasta all over the floor…”

“Sorry, Feli, I didn’t mean to! Here, let me help you…,” he rushed over, but Feliciano hid his face from him, hunched over.

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” he stuttered and Mathew frowned, kneeling to look at his friend’s face. Feliciano gasped and looked away in shame, hiding his face behind his hands.

“I didn’t want you to see my face,” Feli muttered, eyes hidden behind protective sun glasses, and cheeks covered in band aids.

“I’m sorry, Feli…I…sorry,” Mathew finished lamely, looking away from his friend, feeling guilty. “What…happened to you?”

“The same thing that happened to you. Except…my 2P didn’t like me as much as yours did. I don’t know why, but…the company decided to keep me alive even though the 2P is supposed kill their original. I can’t see very well now…”

Mathew couldn’t help but hug his friend close, and Feliciano hesitated before returning the hug. It seemed like the experiment really traumatized him. Mathew wondered if Feliciano would ever be able to be his cheery self ever again…

* * *

 

After helping Feliciano reach his room, Mathew decided to head back to his own room, having had enough exploring for today. He could see the other five floors of the Vargas Resort and Spa another day. Turning the corner to his room, he overheard arguing down the hall nearby. Hiding, Mathew peeked around the corner to see that it was Lovino arguing with Arthur.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Mathew?”

“It wasn’t relevant to your rescuing him. Besides, I wasn’t sure the Mattie _you_ know and the Mattie _I_ know was the same person. Why does it matter? He’s safe now. My knowing him isn’t important.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t really matter. But did he know that his friend was a mafia boss?”

Lovino scowled and grabbed Arthur by the collar and managed to be very intimidating for someone who barely over five feet tall.

“Listen here, you two-bit crook, the people me and my family interact with is none of your business. You’re on a strictly need to know business. I have no friends, he’s only a classmate. I helped you, you helped me, and I’m only doing Mathew the favor of harboring him here because I owe him, nothing less. I could care less about you and your drama.”

Mathew decided to quickly head back to his room before he heard anything else he didn’t like.

* * *

 

Lukas was conducting his experiments as usual in his lab, checking up on the various 2Ps in his facility, getting sadder as he walked on. They were all healthy, as expected, his genius was too good for them to result in failure. Sighing, Lukas decided to have his lunch break early lest he give himself an anxiety attack again. Opening his takeout container, he was about to eat his noodles when Magnus popped up beside him in that manner that always made Lukas wonder how long the 2P had been spying on him.

Straining up his voice, he looked away from Magnus, “What do you want now?”

Magnus’s smile seemed eerily frigid with barely contained anger.

“Oh, I think you know what I want, _my little Luke._ You snuck out again to talk to that criminal again, didn’t you?”


	11. Hot Pot and Cupcakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A more mellow chapter to slow down the story. A dinner for two and a new 2P too.

Out of all the things Lukas hated most, Magnus was worse than all those hated things, _combined_. Now that Lukas had been caught sneaking out to communicate with Arthur yet again, he was confined to the innermost chambers of the company lab. He was monitored at all times, and needed an escort anytime he was to leave for the restroom or to rest at night in his own room. More often than not, the one monitoring him was Magnus, when he didn’t have to pretend to be Mathias and keep up the company. Conveniently, Lukas hacked the 2P’s schedule to force him into company meetings for the next two weeks. It was only a matter of time before the 2P noticed that he had hacked the work schedule again, though…

Sitting at his desk, he stared at the vial resting innocently in its case in front of him. Within was a single lock of hair from one Arthur A. Kirkland, and it had been delivered to him the day the criminal’s cousin had arrived at his lab. The poor guy didn’t deserve what he went through, but he was glad that the 2P came out as a mutation rather than the normal product. The scientist in him wanted to examine the 2P to know _why_ Alec didn’t kill Mathew, but he was too disgusted by the project in its entirety to truly do it. Speaking of other abnormalities…

“Luke! Luke, look! I made cupcakes!”

     “…that’s nice, but I’m working now.”

“You’re just scowling at that strand of hair. Come on, try a cupcake!”

Lukas sighed, scribbling down some theories on a notepad on how to ‘fix’ the 2P in front of him. Why were the recent experiments coming out docile? Perhaps the experiments were affected by how difficult it was to create the 2Ps from DNA samples than the actual person themselves? Though the strands of hair were a good compromise to prevent Magnus from kidnapping the originals, and gave the originals a chance to avoid their eventual murder…

 A pink and blue cupcake was nudged into his peripheral vision.

“How did you even get the ingredients to make cupcakes?”

     “Magnus gave them to me when I asked. Say, why do you hate him so much? He’s so nice!”

“He’s only nice to you because he’s expecting things from you. He’s using you. And he wants me to fix you.”

“Fix…me? Is there something wrong with me?”

     Lukas made the mistake of making eye contact with the freckle-faced 2P in front of him; his heart hurt at the confusion on his face. As much as the overall project and its twisted goals disgusted him…there were some things that it produced that he couldn’t hate no matter how much he wanted to.

“…Only according to Magnus. I think…I think you came out perfect.”

The strawberry blond smiled bashfully, delighted that Lukas thought so. He decided to eat his cupcakes himself, that was enough of a treat to be a pick-me up after learning about Magnus’s hidden motives, getting frosting on his nose.

“Say, can you…tell me more about my original again?”

Lukas sighed softly but smiled, and began to retell, for the hundredth time, the heroic unknown tale of Arthur A. Kirkland to one self-named Oliver B. Kirkland.

* * *

 

Kiku was stressed to the point where he could hardly get more than an hour of sleep at night. He couldn’t trust the company no matter how he looked at it, he was indecisive about quitting, Arthur was being more charming with each passing day and he was in _way too deep,_ and his best friend was starting to get seriously pissed off that he hasn’t talked to him since his undercover assignment had started. Shopping at the open-air market with Arthur, Kiku decided to try and relax a little. He had the hot pot and dinner with Arthur to look forward to, after all.

“Yo, Kiku! Where you been? You haven’t been answering my calls! It’s like you disappeared off the grid!” his obnoxious best friend approached in a speed walk with the scariest passive-aggressive smile ever in recorded history, and Kiku panicked and hastily shoved Arthur into the spaces between the stalls before Alfred could see Arthur’s face.

“Huh? Wasn’t there someone with you?”

     Kiku laughed nervously, shaking his head, “I do not know what you’re talking about. I am here. Alone. Shopping by myself. Alone.”

Alfred laughed and other market goers glared at him.

     “Wow, your English has gotten so much better than the last I saw you! So, I saw that you were assigned – “

“Oh Alfred, look! Leeks on sale! Pass me a few, would you?”

     “Huh? Oh, sure. It’s rude to interrupt someone, though, hasn’t anyone every told you that? Learn some western manners, man.”

Kiku frowned at him.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. You haven’t been in England in a while, I know. I see you like the open market just as much as when you were first here for the study program. Say, what are you going to be cooking?”

“I am gathering ingredients for hot pot. I may have to go to an Asian store for some other ingredients, though…”

“Oh, I love your hot pot! You gotta save me a bowl.”

     Kiku made eye contact with the hiding Arthur, and could see the confusion and borderline panic in his eyes. He smiled what he hoped would pass as a reassuring smile at him.

“I’m sorry, Alfred, I only have enough ingredients for two.”

“That’s perfect! You couldn’t have any new friends, right? You just came in from Japan, right? You’re too busy with that new job of yours.”

Kiku scowled, “I only have enough for _two._ And I can actually make friends other than you, Alfred. Now _you_ are the one who is rude.”

Alfred narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

     “Who is this new person? I’d love to meet them.”

Kiku stood his ground, glad to see that Arthur was still hiding nearby. He hoped that the fact that Arthur hadn’t left yet was a good thing.

“Sorry, but this is a special dinner. You can’t come over. We’d plan this out for a while. I’m not inviting a stranger over to his home either.”

“Oh, I see. A date, huh? Is that why you haven’t been answering my calls or messages lately? Ignoring me, your one friend? I’m not a _stranger_ either, Kiku. I’m _your_ best friend.”

Kiku didn’t need Alfred’s tantrum right now. He really didn’t. Clutching his grocery bag, he paid the market sales person and glared at Alfred coolly.

“I’ll talk to you another time, Alfred. I want to make my hot pot while the ingredients are fresh. My friend is waiting for me too.”

Alfred blinked, affronted.

     “My…m-my younger brother is missing. He’s a fugitive of the law! And…and my job is super demanding right now!”

Kiku held his tongue and counted to ten. Was Alfred like this the last time they had hung out? No, the American had been much more polite and cheery.

“You’ve told me hundreds of times over the phone, Alfred. Goodbye, Alfred. And do _not_ follow me, Alfred.”

Alfred was left too dumbstruck by the fact that he wasn’t given what he wanted to even try following his best friend.

* * *

 

“So…you know Alfred?”

     Heat rushed to Kiku’s cheeks as Arthur held his hand, the two of them walking back to their apartment building.

“Y-yes. We first met when I did a study abroad semester in Manchester. He was my roommate. We, um, we’re best friends, but I haven’t really been talking to him since I moved to London…”

“I see…,” Arthur wondered if he could really trust the man he had come to confide so emotionally in at this revelation. Doubt began to seep into his thoughts…

Arthur blushed when he realized that Kiku had caught him staring. Awkwardly clearing his throat and staring at the uneven sidewalk, Arthur asked, “Why didn’t you tell Alfred about me?”

Kiku frowned.

     “You are my close friend, Arthur. You’ve told me about your family, your troubles, your work. You’re…you’re not a bad person. I wouldn’t do that you.”

Arthur swallowed; he felt like he deserved to be kicked in the back for even questioning Kiku’s steadfast friendship. He wouldn’t ever doubt him again.

Kiku felt like he deserved to go to hell for continuing to deceive Arthur like this. As Arthur smiled at him, the breath caught in Kiku’s throat, and he immediately decided he needed to quit the company.

“Thanks, Kiku. That…that means a lot to me,” he tugged on Kiku’s hand in his contagious joy, helping Kiku with the groceries, “Now, on a lighter topic…I’m really excited to try this hot pot you keep telling me about.”

Kiku chuckled, smiling himself, following Arthur into his small apartment, chest light and full with his new resolve.

“I have to prep the ingredients first, Arthur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone know what hot pot is like? I'd love to try it...


	12. Chessboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kIKU Dum beach...i luv you doe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got writers block sorry not sorry

Oliver Kirkland was a failure amongst the various new additions to his family, and Magnus was not happy. He was not happy, _at all._ He was coddling his lovely Lukas and giving in to his requests, but the 2Ps were not coming out as he wanted. They weren’t strong and ambitious like him, and they had no desire to act on their violent urges. One wanted to make _cupcakes_ all day, another lazed the day away, and the other would wave him off and tell Magnus to let him be in his solitude. The one that ran away with his original _fell_ for his original, for god’s sake. Magnus was taking notes on the experiments. And he was losing his patience.

* * *

 

“I…I-I have come to turn in my two weeks notice of resignation, sir.”

Magnus did not even look up from reading Lukas’ most recent lab report.

“Resignation denied.”

     “E-Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Agent Honda. Your resignation is denied. Do you really think that I would let one of my prized agents go? You’re the prince of the undercover division. Kirkland trusts you. Your resignation is denied.”

Kiku swallowed, clammy fingers clutching his letter of resignation. What was he going to do?

“Y-You can’t prevent me from resigning, sir.”

     A cold smile that Kiku had never seen before on Mathias’ face sent chills down his spine, and Kiku wondered for a moment if the man in front of him was Mathias at all.

“I _am_ the law enforcer of the government, Agent Honda. My company creates the law. We _are_ the law. And if I say your resignation is rejected: It. Is. Rejected.”

Magnus stood, motioning for Kiku to follow him. Intimidated by the possibility of his boss’ fury, Kiku followed after him. They entered into an elevator that Kiku did not even know was part of the building’s blue prints.

“You do not seem to understand the importance of your own job, Kiku. I understand that it gets to be stressful; after all, you are befriending the most wanted criminal in the Republic of England. No, in all of the Eurasian Union. If you need to see the true importance of your mission, I will show you.”

The elevator doors opened before Kiku could think deeply about what Magnus said, and he stared in shock at the Arthur look-alike in front of him. What… _what is this?_

“Oliver, meet Agent Honda. Agent Honda, meet Oliver.”

     Kiku could only gape at Oliver. Oliver waved cheerfully, already smitten with Kiku, just like his original.

“I see that you are having trouble processing this. Oliver is a product of the company’s 2P Project. The 2P Project, or Second Player Project, is the brain child of myself and prodigy scientist Lukas Bondevik, we clone the best humans to create soldiers that would take our place in war and in law enforcement. Think of it, Kiku…no more civilian casualties, or tragic accidents of firemen or policemen…that is the vision for our Second Player Project. Arthur Kirkland used to be a company officer, and he was the first volunteer subject for the project. Oliver is his second player; as you can see, they are not exact copies of their originals. But I must stress the importance of your role in monitoring Arthur Kirkland, Agent Honda. Kirkland means to sabotage our project, and he’s done so many times in the past three years. Do you understand?”

Kiku slowly nodded, but as he looked into Lukas’ eyes across the room, and observed the fear in them as he looked upon Mathias, his gut distinctly told him he could not trust what his boss had told him. But little did he know that the best lies were made of half-truths.

* * *

 

Magnus could see right through Kiku as he made the younger Asian reaffirm his loyalty. What humour; as soon as Kiku had come to try to turn in his letter of resignation, he knew that Kiku no longer trusted the company. Why reveal the project to him, then? He had to show his lovely Lukas that he held the power in this project, still. The fear in Lukas’ eyes had been enough to let Magnus know his point got across crystal clear. He controlled the pawns. And he chooses where they go.

Dismissing Kiku for the day, Magnus turned on the mic he had planted on the man as soon as Kiku was outside the company building. The man was naïve enough to think that Magnus would just let him leave after trying to resign; from now on Magnus would keep every eye and ear on Kiku. And when the time was right…he would strike.


	13. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred gets some answers...or does he?

Alfred found him. He finally found him. After all this time searching, he found him…and he was…he was with Kiku. Why was he with Kiku? Kiku, who had (as far as his friend bothered to inform him, anyways) only just come from Japan to work under the English Branch of the Magnum Hetalia Company…Kiku, who said he had a new friend that wasn’t himself. Kiku, who…who worked as an undercover officer. Kiku’s line of work was as an undercover officer. Of course, the last time they had met, his old friend couldn’t have had invited him over, Kiku would have blown his cover. Oh god, what if he had blown Kiku’s cover? Swallowing guilt, Alfred tailed after Arthur and Kiku, the pair seeming to be enjoying an afternoon stroll together.

     Alfred would have to wait until Arthur was alone so he couldn’t risk the chance of blowing Kiku’s cover again. The two of them didn’t seem like they would part ways anytime soon, though…

     

* * *

 

Alfred followed the pair of lovebirds until they stopped in front of an intimidating resort and spa that Alfred immediately recognized as the mafia’s base of operations. He gagged when he saw Arthur lean over and peck Kiku on the cheek with a quick kiss, and was appalled to see his friend become flustered. Shouldn’t…shouldn’t have Kiku’s reaction been one of disgust? An internationally wanted criminal just kissed his cheek, of all things!

Watching Kiku with concern, Alfred had trouble tearing his focus from the Asian man to the crook entering the building in front of him. He would have to have a serious talk with him later. In the meantime…he would have to play yet another waiting game before he’d have the chance to talk to Arthur alone, it would seem.

* * *

 

Mathew had become quite familiarized with the Vargas Family’s place of residence by now, and felt quite at home amongst the stoic guards and gossipy Italians who shared the living space with him. By this point in time, he had memorized the guard’s schedule subconsciously, knew who was closest to Lovino, knew who had his absolute trust, knew who the man hated, and knew who the man loved. The only thing about living here that bothered Mathew was the fact that he had been there long enough to know all this. Meandering towards the dining hall for dinner, Mathew hoped they wouldn’t have pasta again for the umpteenth day in a row. Lovino gave Feliciano too much power in the kitchen.

Passing by the glass paneling that gave a lovely view of the courtyard of the resort and spa, Mathew wondered for a moment how his brother was doing. Was Alfred aware what had happened to him? Did he think that Mathew was dead? Did he think Mathew was a criminal now? Mathew missed his brother so much that he began to imagine that his brother was watching over him from the outside olive tree like some sort of malevolent angel. Wait…that was Alfred!

Staring in disbelief, Mathew cautiously approached the window, Alfred mirroring his expression. The two siblings seemed to be of a shared mind as Alfred scrambled down from the tree and Mathew ran to the one area of the courtyard hidden from the public eye. For several long moments, they couldn’t speak a single word to each other, the two of them just staring at the other, trying to catch their breath.

     “…w-why were you up in a tree? Actually, why are you here in general, Alfred?” his confusion overwhelmed his glee at the moment.

     “Why am _I_ here? Why are _you_ here!” Alfred took all of two seconds to explode at Mathew, incredulous that of all things, this is how his reunion with his younger brother would go.

     “You’ve been missing for, like, forever, Mattie! I thought you were kidnapped, or something _horrible_ had happened to you!”

     “Well, I’m fine Alfred. I’m sorry for not contacting you or anything, but I couldn’t exactly _do_ anything about my situation,” he wanted to say he missed Alfred, but with the way his brother was acting right now, with his accusatory tone of voice, Mathew didn’t feel that Alfred would welcome a hug or tears right now.

     “Yea no duh! _You’re a fugitive from the law!_ What did you _do_ , Mattie?”

     Mathew felt indignant, glancing at the mafia to make sure that no one had seen Alfred yet.

     “I didn’t _do_ anything!”

“You’re on the run from the government! The mafia is keeping you hostage, that Kirkland brainwashed you – “

     Mathew whipped his attention back to Alfred with a glare so sharp that it shut Alfred up instantly.

     “The only _crime_ I’ve committed, Alfred, is remembering who Arthur Kirkland truly is. The mafia, for your information, is keeping me _safe_. Go, before they notice you. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself involved in. You saw that I’m safe, and I’m pretty sure that’s what you were following Arthur for, right?”

Mathew wondered darkly for a moment why he had missed his overbearing brother at all.

     Alfred wet his tongue, “How’d you – “

“– I’m your _brother_ , Alfred. I _know_ you. Now go already! You’re in mafia territory! And _don’t trust the company_!”

     Pushing away the hesitant Alfred, Mathew swept the perimeter with his eyes again to make sure they weren’t watched when he made direct eye contact with Feliciano, who was standing on the other side of the glass paneling Mathew had been behind just minutes earlier. The color drained out of Mathew’s face as Feliciano’s magenta eyes twinkled with mirth, and the Canadian made a mad dash for the lobby as ‘Feliciano’ walked away into the shadows of the hallway. The Italian man’s chilly smirk would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

* * *

 

Kiku shivered, checking over his shoulder for the hundredth time. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following him, watching his every move. He tried to focus on the traffic of passersby in front of him instead, checking his watch every few minutes to make sure he arrived on time to his destination. He and Arthur had parted ways earlier in the morning because he knew Arthur had ‘business’ to deal with, but they agreed to meet at a local dinery whose owner owed Arthur a favor.

Kiku’s cheeks warmed as he took note of the seemingly abnormal number of couples surrounding him as he crossed the street. Could this be considered…a date? His first date with Arthur? Butterflies were doing somersaults in his stomach and Kiku walked on with renewed vigor, smiling to himself. Today had been such a wonderful day so far, the majority of it dominated by spending time with Arthur and devising a plan to quit the company in his free time. The night should have been just as wonderful…if someone hadn’t grabbed his shoulder to confront him.

Stiffening, Kiku slowly turned around, tense with apprehension. The first thing he was greeted with was a bone-crushing hug and messy blond hair and worried blue eyes way to close to his own face.

“A-Alfred!”

     “Oh, Kiku! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” his crooked glasses poked into Kiku’s cheek.

“L-Let me breathe, Alfred,” the shorter man managed to wheeze, exhaling in relief when his friend finally let him go. Alfred shuffled anxiously in front of him and Kiku frowned, checking his watch again quickly.

“What is wrong, Alfred? I’m assuming you wanted to talk to me after hugging me in the middle of a crowd.”

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating on what to say. He hadn’t thought this through, he and Kiku hadn’t talked since the day at the market, and their friendship is on rocky terms right now.

“I, uh, I…I found my little brother. He’s safe.”

     Kiku’s shoulders relaxed, but Alfred frowned; why did Kiku seem like he already knew this?

“That’s good. Now you have no need to worry, right? You can resume your job now.”

Alfred bit his lip, “Yeah, I can, but…Mattie is wanted for arrest. He’s hiding with the mafia! Do you…do you know what’s going on, Kiku?”

Why did the surprise on Kiku’s face seem feigned? If he were anyone other than Kiku’s best friend, he would have been fooled by Kiku’s acting prowess.

“Oh my! That’s…I don’t know what to say, Alfred. No, I don’t know what is going on…”

Alfred was taken aback. Why was Kiku lying straight to his face? Kiku checked his watch again and Alfred clicked his tongue.

“Are you going to meet Arthur Kirkland?”

     Kiku’s shoulders stiffened in shock, a dead giveaway.

“I…excuse me?”

     He was having the worst luck lately, it seemed. Alfred smiled wryly.

“That’s who you met last time to have hot pot with, isn’t it? The new ‘friend’? You keep glancing at your watch, so you must be meeting him soon, right?”

Kiku hesitated, making sure that no one was eavesdropping on them.

“How…how do you know about Arthur?”

     “I was trailing Arthur this morning. You two spent the whole day together…he even kissed your cheek! Why are you hanging around that _criminal_ more than necessary? He’s your job, I put the dots together, but being his _friend?_ ”

Kiku’s cheeks flamed with anger, “How I do my work is none of your business, Alfred! And my relationship with Arthur is none of your business either!”

“ _Relationship?_ Are you _dating_ him?” Alfred asked, incredulous. Kiku seemed to deflate at the question, but Alfred could read him like an open book: Kiku was completely smitten with Arthur, and it made Alfred incomprehensibly furious.

“You can’t be serious…do you have _feelings for him?_ He’s a _criminal_ , you’re an _officer_ , you’re not supposed to _fall_ for your target!”

“It’s not any of your business, Alfred!” Kiku stressed, growing anxious at the stares of curious passerby. The ticking minutes on his watch left him stressed as well.

“You know what? I’m going to report this to Mathias. Assign you to something other than Kirkland. He’s obviously brain washing you, just like Mattie…”

     Kiku’s eyes widened and he grabbed Alfred by the collar roughly, shaking with rage. It was as if something had snapped in the small man.

“Do what you want, _Alfred,_ but my relationship with Arthur has _nothing_ to do with you, and you _cannot_ stop my feelings for him. I’m going to quit the company, and I’m going to support him. If you come and threaten either of us again, I will _not_ hesitate to beat you down. Consider our friendship _over._ ”

The shaking Asian man pushed him away, Alfred’s name like an insult on his tongue. The town square clock tower chimed in the distance and he stormed off into, trying to compose himself for his upcoming date at the dinery. He gnashed his teeth in frustration, Alfred’s confrontation had made him ten minutes late to his date with Arthur.

And Alfred? Alfred could only stand in disbelief as the passerby moved around him, that all his friends had pushed him away and shut him out, all because he kept sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong, trying to force his own brand of heroism on them. What kind of hero was he now? He didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it apparent how much I dislike Alfred at this point?


	14. His Name Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mathew is in some trouble...again. Dammit Mattie.

“Not so fast, Matteo~!” ‘Feliciano’ called after Mathew in false cheer, Mathew breaking into a cold sweat as he frantically searched his surroundings for a way to get to Lovino. He had to at least warn him, even if he didn’t believe him…

“Why are you running and hiding, ve? Did I mess up when I called you Matteo? Did Feli call you Mattie…or was it my eyes that gave it away?” ‘Feliciano’ leisurely took his time exploring the lobby, giggling. Had it been any other person that had discovered him early, he would have been angry, but Mathew was a special exception (to a lot of things, it seemed).

Mathew struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, glancing at the exit that led to the dining hall. It was so close…but the space from his hiding spot to the exit was open space, nowhere for him to hide…would he be able to outrun ‘Feliciano’? Of all times for him to be separated from Alec…

“Ah, I have found you, Matteo~!” ‘Feliciano’ grinned as he peered at Mathew from the other side of the check in counter, Mathew flinching and scooting away, breathing hard. He frantically searched for something he could use to defend himself with.

‘Feliciano’ tutted at him, sauntering over and kneeling in front of him. “There’s no need for that. I won’t hurt you. But I can’t let anyone know that you’ve found me, ve? Such a dilemma, its not time yet…”

Mathew suppressed a shudder.

     “Who…who are you?”

The 2P seemed delighted that someone had finally asked for his name, even bowing to Mathew in mock politeness.

“I am Luciano Vargas.”

     Mathew shut his eyes, resigned to the fact that there was no realistic way he was escaping from Luciano.

“Is…Feliciano…dead…?”

     Luciano’s expression instantly soured.

“It is not your concern presently. From how you cower, I take it you understand your position, ve?”

“Yea, I do, but…,” Mathew prepared himself with a deep breath.

“Good, now come along – “

     “- **_Arthur!_** ”

Luciano reacted swiftly, deftly smacking the back of Mathew’s neck in a smooth hit, catching him as he fell unconscious into his arms.

“Stupid boy…,” Luciano tsk’ed.

 Hoisting Mathew up, he made his way out the door, delighted with the fact that the day he would reveal himself would soon come.

* * *

 

“Oh, so this is him~? He’s cute!” a blond in sunglasses murmured as he looked over Mathew.

     “Yea, literally everyone here thinks that,” a taller, drab looking 2P rolled his eyes beside him.

“Ooh, I want to meet him, I want to meet him! He’s related to my original, you know!” Oliver jumped up and down, trying to see Mathew.

“Stop crowding around him so much! I found him first, ve?” Luciano shooed the others away.

     “…shouldn’t we tell the Prez or papa that we brought him in first? That seems like what we should do…,” the blond asked.

“No one cares what _you_ think. And don’t call Lukas papa, its creepy.”

“But he made us, didn’t he?”

     Several voices mumbled in agreement while Mathew groaned, starting to come back the world of consciousness.

“Ooh, he’s waking up~! Let me be the first to greet him, let me be the first!” the blond wiggled in excitement.

“Nyet, I should be first to greet him,” a new voice shouldered their way in.

“I brought him in, so I should – “

     “No, he’s related to my original!” Oliver butted in amongst the much taller 2Ps surrounding him, shouldering his way over to Mathew. The others tried to pry him away to get the opportunity to see Mathew first, but Oliver grinned in triumph; Mathew had seen him first!

“Ar…Arthur…?”

He tried to focus his sight on his surroundings, wincing at the brightness of the oh-too-familiar fluorescent lab lights above them. Had Arthur always had blue eyes? No, no, Arthur had green eyes…

     “The name’s Oliver, poppet! It’s nice to meet you!”

Mathew stared in dumbfounded amazement. The first thing that made it through his groggy mind was that Arthur’s 2P was very damned adorable. The second was to sit very, very still, and hope that none of the 2Ps surrounding him would kill him.

“Oh, Luci, you made him scared!” Oliver pouted at Mathew’s silence.

     “Its Luciano, you pink weirdo.”

“This guy is boring. I, for one, am going, unless you find someone more fabulous.”

The well-dressed blond 2P sashayed his way out of the room, followed by the other 2Ps, leaving Mathew alone with just Luciano and Oliver. The Canadian couldn’t relax just yet.

“Are you going to…kill me…?”

     “Dear heavens! No, no, I would never dream of it!” Oliver quickly exclaimed, but watched Luciano warily, as if he expected the Italian to try something.

“That would be fun, ve? But no, not right now at least. I am feeling that you may be useful in the future. You will stay here for now while I go find Magnus. Come on, Oliver.”

Oliver resisted as Luciano tugged him along, wanting to spend more time with Mathew so he could learn more about Arthur, and Mathew hesitantly wondered aloud.

“Who…who’s Magnus…?”

     Luciano grinned forebodingly at him, the fluorescent lighting making his magenta eyes seem as though they glowed.

“You’ll get to meet him soon.”


	15. Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiku and Arthur love each other.

Oh god. Oh god. How could he do that to Alfred? How could he do that to his best friend? Alfred has always been nosy, but he’s just concerned about him! He doesn’t know anything about Arthur, and Kiku hoped against all hope that Alfred wouldn’t have to be involved in this mess of a situation any more than he already was, but to Alfred, Kiku was in love with nothing more than a criminal. And _god,_ Kiku _wished_ he was dating Arthur, but with the way he showed up late to their very first date, and distracted by overwhelming guilt the entire time, he might as well have ruined his chances of _ever_ being asked out by Arthur! Hell, why should he even be allowed to entertain any _thoughts_ of being in a relationship with Arthur? He was employed by the very people who ruined Arthur’s life! Arthur deserved better than Kiku! God, what was wrong with him? No, he should try thinking on the positive, shouldn’t he? He was resolved to cut himself off from the company, he should…ah, Kiku was giving himself a headache.

“Kiku? Hello…?”

Kiku stumbled, returning from his brooding thoughts to reality as Arthur caught him on the stairs. Arthur smiled that smile he only showed to Kiku when he was worried or sad. It seemed that in the present moment, Arthur was both. Arthur only showed his weak self to Kiku and Kiku _hated_ himself for that, more often than not. He didn’t deserve Arthur’s trust at all, even with his resolve to quit the company; he still hadn’t done anything to be worthy of it, yet in his everyday interactions with the British man, he always pushed it to the back of his mind…

“Are you alright, Kiku? You’ve been distracted all evening…”

Kiku winced, caught mid-thought again, “I’m sorry, I just…,” he wanted to stop hiding from Arthur, “Alfred ran into me right before I went to meet with you, I…we got into a big fight…”

“Ah, I see… You don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to talk about it. Here, we’re almost back to our flats,” smiling softly at him, Arthur helped Kiku up the last of the stairs onto the second floor of the apartment building. They walked in silence to the doors of their respective floors hand in hand, Kiku stuck in his self-destructive mindset, relieved that Arthur was his usual understanding self (which added to Kiku’s guilt), and Arthur filled with butterflies. Arthur knew better than to doubt his trust in Kiku after the day at the market.

Kiku was still in his thorn bush of thoughts, however. He would have to apologize to Alfred the next time he saw him. Maybe explain to him what was going on…? He couldn’t tell Alfred any explicit details about Arthur, though… It would be better if Alfred separated himself from the company as soon as possible, like Kiku was trying to, as well.

“Thank you, Arthur. I…I’ll explain to you soon, I promise.”

     Arthur just gave him that same gentle, soft smile.

“Take your time, Kiku. And don’t worry about tonight. There’s always next time, right? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And as Kiku smiled despite his worries and began to open his flat door, Arthur leaned over and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. Flushing and freezing up, all the thoughts Kiku was preoccupied with flew out the window; a shiver ran down his spine as Arthur’s breath tickled his ear,

“Good night, Kiku,” and Arthur disappeared into his own flat for the evening.

Kiku’s cheek tingled with warmth where he was kissed, and he stared at his door knob for several moments, unable to move. Arthur had kissed him on the cheek earlier today, sure, but it was a quick peck, nothing more, and then Arthur had been so busy taking him around town that he hadn’t had time to let his mind linger on it at the time. But now, his mind could focus on nothing but Arthur. Oh, dear…

Kiku smiled wryly at himself as he entered his flat and removed his shoes next to the doorway, shutting the door behind him afterwards. He really was in deep, wasn’t he? Well, he would just have to make sure he truly deserved Arthur’s trust after all. Quitting the company didn’t work, so…he would just have to erase himself from _them_.

Pulling out his company laptop and beginning the process of throwing himself off the grid, Kiku startled when he heard a thump and a squeal from Arthur’s flat next door. He sat still, listening attentively with anxiety, before Arthur began to monologue at himself. Very loudly.

Of which Kiku could hear every word. His cheeks flushed, and then he began to laugh, at first quietly with relief, and then heartily, from his stomach, at Arthur’s adorableness. It seemed that Arthur was in just as deep, then, huh? From the sound of a crash and some muffled cursing, Kiku guessed that Arthur must have broken a tea pot, and after a last laugh, he got up to go over to help him, his heart full and warm.

Arthur was meant for him, and he for Arthur. And he was going to make sure they get their happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still difficult for me to use AO3 compared to fanfiction.net. Oh well.


	16. Returned to the Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit. Goes. Down. Complications with the mafia, poor Alfred, and a new character!

“ ** _WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!”_**

     Arthur stared in shock at the impeccable marble flooring of the mafia’s hidden office, cheek smarting and raw with the heat of the punch Lovino had greeted him with. Closing his eyes, he took the moment to regain his breath. It had been only four days since he had last been in the Vargas Family’s Resort and Spa hideout. Regaining his composure, Arthur coolly assessed the situation around him. Antonio was absent. As was Feliciano, and Mathew. Alec was hollow-eyed in the corner. The Vargas family members could not look at Lovino, as if they were conflicted by a deep inner pain. Finally examining Lovino, he noted that his ally’s eyes were rimmed red from lack of sleep and swollen from recent crying, the Italian’s breath erratic from the adrenaline rush that punching Arthur had given him.

“I, um…I was…,” Arthur couldn’t really come up with any excuse to defend himself. The threat of the Magnum Hetalia Company, the 2P Project…Arthur had completely forgotten and abandoned his duty. _He_ was the one who started all this. _What was he doing?_ Lovino glowered at him, and Arthur wet his tongue.

“What happened, Lovino…?”

“ _Everything! Antonio is missing, Mathew is gone and so is Feliciano! There was a double-agent in our midst; **everything has gone to shit!**_ ”

“Calm down, Lovino! We can fix this situation, we can – “

“No, ‘we can’ nothing! Antonio was the last string! You’re out! _Finito!_ We’re not working with you anymore! You’ve never made any progress anyways, you – “

“Lovino, please – “

“Shut up, Arthur! Take the 2P and leave! Get your ass in gear, Kirkland!”

And thus, Arthur lost the support of the Vargas Mafia. It was all falling apart, in the worst way possible.

* * *

 

How could he let himself become complacent? _Forget about the very project he started his criminal career for?_ He was going on dates and fraternizing when Lovino and the rest of the nation needed his help! God, why did he always have to act so self-important? Arthur angrily kicked a can across the road, Alec flinching beside him. Arthur couldn’t blame Kiku either, the sweet man was just his neighbor, it was _Arthur_ who fell for him and got distracted, when he should’ve – Arthur paused abruptly, causing Alec to walk right into his back. When Arthur had rented that flat in that building, the landlord had promised that they wouldn’t lease any other flats, that the building would be vacant just for him. Despite this, Kiku became his neighbor. His _next door neighbor._ That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

“Hey, Arthur? …where were you the past four days?” Alec interrupted Arthur’s self-important brooding, the 2P depressed with the disappearance of his dear Mattie.

Arthur sighed through his nose, “I…I was on dates. Courting my next-door neighbor.”

“You _what?!”_

“Yes, yes, I know, don’t chastise me, Alec. I should have been focusing on more important things than…,” Arthur sighed, and Alec shook with outright fury.

“You no good – “

“Alec, not while we’re on the street, please.”

“Where do you get off being so self-important, eh?! Mattie told me, ya know! You started this whole situation, this whole mess, when you could’ve just stopped it before it started by just killing Magnus instead of turning tail and ‘fighting’ the government, three years ago! You’ve made practically zero progress for three years, doing nothing but annoying politicians, then when the mafia finally makes progress for you, you become complacent, as if they would do it for you!”

Arthur growled, face blanching with his own rage, “ _I’m not a murderer, Alec! I – “_

“M-Mathew…?”

Both men whirled around and stared at the man who called to them, each breathing raggedly in anger, and Alfred immediately regretted calling out to them, especially after realizing that the 2P he had called out to was most definitely _not_ his baby brother.

* * *

 

Mathew coolly observed his surroundings, taking measured breathes to keep his calm as he sat in front of the company president. The last time he had seen this man was Alfred’s Christmas party last year, but…could he be sure that this was truly Mathias? With this project, it could be quite possible that Mathias was long gone. Just that thought made Mathew sick to his stomach, and the white-wash walls just too bright in the dim fluorescent lighting of the interrogation room they were all sitting in.

“We both agreed that there is no need for the original, so why do you keep him alive? The Italian boy I understand, but this one seems to fade into the background.”

‘Mathias’ laughed, “When will you ever respect your superiors, hm? This boy is like my little Luke; he’s a mathematical genius. You should learn not to judge by appearances. Mathew will help us further our project. Having him captive will give Alec incentive to rejoin his family, too.”

“Hmph. Leave traitors be.”

     ‘Mathias’ shrugged, he and the dark-haired stranger finally turning to look at Mathew, “Your opinion means nothing to me. Besides, this original…the mathematics he practices is astounding.”

Mathew’s only response was the meanest glare he could muster. ‘Mathias’ laughed. Mathew tensed at the very echo of ‘Mathias’ footfalls as he approached, trying very hard to keep up a tough exterior. Magnus could see right through him.

“Oh? You look like you just figured out all my plans just by taking one look at me. It seems that Kirkland family quickness runs through you.”

Mathew stayed silent, watching Magnus in disbelief, swallowing thickly. The instant Magnus had stepped into the odd fluorescent light, Mathew could tell that he was a 2P. The very first of them, Mathew was willing to bet, too.

“Not speaking, hm? Good, I prefer men of few words; I quite like monologuing. From the haunted expression you have, I don’t think I need to explain myself to you. You seem like you’ve figured out the entirety of the Second Player Project – both original and current. So, allow me to go into more detail for you.”

Magnus took a seat across from Mathew, amused by the boy’s adorable attempt at a defiant expression. The dark-haired stranger decided to rest against the wall, placing a katana next to him, to discourage any thoughts of running away Mathew might have had.

“The Second Player Project as we run it now is…refreshingly inconsistent, I would say. Some of us come out of the machine a homicidal maniac, some harmless as a fly, others simply the opposite of the original, and there are those of us who like many of the same things as our originals…,” Magnus winked at Lukas, who Mathew hadn’t even noticed being in the room, and both Mathew and Lukas shuddered in disgust.

“Sometimes we utterly hate our originals – that poor Italien boy has to be kept hidden from Luciano for his own protection – and sometimes we love our originals, like your own Second Player.”

Mathew sat up in alarm as Oliver entered the room to hurriedly whisper to the dark-haired stranger, who had drawn the katana in response to someone entering the room. Oliver seemed to be one of the nice ones, was he wrong?

“Don’t worry, he won’t harm him. We Second Players tend to reflect our originals as well. That isn’t Arthur either; it’s just little Oliver.”

Mathew opened his mouth, half-forming a question but not knowing what to ask, said nothing; he watched in bewilderment as the dark haired stranger relaxed and put away the katana, pacifying Oliver, the dark haired stranger kissing Oliver upon the forehead and gently sending him away. Magnus laughed at Mathew again.

“You seem surprised and full of questions. We’re just as capable of love as you are, just so you know. And…”

A tall, vaguely familiar man approached them, one of the 2Ps that was in the room that Luciano had him in earlier. Mathew was light headed and sick to his stomach all over again.

“Some of us are created with the memories of our originals.”

     Magnus stood, bringing the other 2P forward, letting him take care of Mathew’s restraints. Mathew tried to keep a clear head, breathing quickly and shallowly.

“I’ll have a few departing words with you, Mathew. Mathias’s vision…it wasn’t wide enough. He should’ve thought bolder, brighter! An army to protect the people from war? Hah! We’ll recreate this world, and only the best will remain!”

Mathew felt as though the world was whirling around him, and the 2P caught, making him even more frustrated as Magnus smiled at him. He tried to shrug the 2P off, disgusted, wanting to be on his own, out of this prison, away from this hell his cousin had brought upon the whole of the Republic.

“Matvey – “

“No! Don’t say my name with his voice!”

The man glared, keeping a tight grip on Mathew and firm tone, “Matvey, calm yourself. I am my own person and my own way of speaking. My accent is thicker than Ivan’s, and my eyes and hair are darker than his; but I am a different person. Do not treat me like a monster. I did not kill my original.”

That pacified Mathew slightly, but he still did not want to cooperate with him, and was defiant on their way to his cell.

“I am Viktor, if you are wondering.”

Mathew kept his nose high in the air, but the effect of it was lost by the fact that he had to lean upon Viktor to walk properly.

“…nyet, I suppose you were not wondering.”

Viktor led them to the inside of a surprisingly well-furnished room instead of a cell. Viktor stared expectantly at Mathew, as if expecting him to enter.

“…is…is this your room?” Mathew hesitated.

     “Yes, da. We Second Players cannot live in the open.”

“…why did you bring me here?”

Viktor sighed, annoyed by the questions, tugging Mathew in and shutting the door behind them.

“It was a request. The first told you that some of us retain memories from our originals, yes?”

“…y-yes.”

     Viktor gestured as if that simply answered the question, but at Mathew’s look of confusion, he sighed again and sat upon the floor by his short table, pouring himself a glass of water from a simple tin pitcher.

“So, I asked that you remain with me during your stay in the lab. I told the first that having something familiar with you would put you at ease.”

Mathew scowled, but it really just resulted in a sorry pout, “What makes you think that I’ll stay here?”

Viktor’s face was an expression of non-amusement.

     “Escape is nigh possible.”

“W-well, what do you know?! Maybe I could escape on my own!”

Viktor gave him that same deadpan expression.

“I have the memories of my original, Matvey. Do not be childish. Wait for your family to come and get you.”

That made Mathew feel like a damsel in distress, and he did not like it one bit.

“I don’t want to wait for someone to save me! I’m a grown man, I can – “

“If I remember correctly, you are only seventeen.”

     “I can help myself!”

“Yes, that’s nice. Matvey, do you enjoy reading?”

     Mathew glared as Viktor brought out a pile of books from underneath his bed, “Don’t ignore my ranting!”

“Do you enjoy reading, Matvey?” Viktor asked again, with less patience, and Mathew bit his lip, annoyed with himself for being intimidate.

“Yes, I do! Why do you ask?”

“Come and sit. I will read to you. My English is not as good as Ivan’s…I said to _sit,_ Matvey.”

Grumbling, Mathew slowly sat across from Viktor, radiating defiance.

“Your English is just fine – “

“What is this word, Matvey?”

“That’s…that word is computer.”

“Mm, no, I am looking for a similar word.”

“A synonym?”

“Da, that.”

“Hm…a…monitor? I guess.”

“Yes, good. Now I am needing to use it for example sentence.”

Why did he suddenly dumb-down his English? Mathew sighed in annoyance.

“I guess a sentence would be...’I turned on the monitor to-‘”

“Nyet, I am need for the other meaning. For my notebook.”

     “Huh? Hm, well…I guess that another sentence would be…’we are being monitored’, I suppose. That’s a common sentence for the second meaning of ‘monitor’, I think.”

Viktor stared at him expectantly.

“…what?”

“I move on to another word; I will practice my own phrase now. For one good in numbers, you are lacking in common sense.”

“That wasn’t very nice!”

Viktor simply stared at him expectantly again, and when it finally clicked in Mathew’s mind, his mouth went wide in a big “oh” of realization, and the 2P rolled his eyes.

“Let me try another phrase now. My books call this kind of phrase a ‘simile’. You are as dim as a lightbulb, Matvey.”

“Again, rude! If you’re going to be practicing English, why don’t you use words I give you instead of insulting me? Try the word ‘window’, for a start.”

Viktor caught on immediately.

     “I am thinking of example sentence now. There are no windows here. Word: windows.”

“Good, that’s a good sentence. Now, try the word ‘guard’. In the second definition, noun.”

“Ugh, you Americans have too many definitions.”

“I’m Canadian, actually. And America isn’t a country anymore.”

Viktor rolled his eyes.

“I am thinking now. Hm…ah. There are guards, day and night, only at the doors. Word: guard.”

“Informative. Now, try ‘camera’.”

“There are cameras in the hall but only microphones in the rooms. Word: camera.”  
     “Another good sentence. Now, I have no idea what time it is, but I think we should try to sleep.”

Viktor nodded in agreement, handing Mathew a threadbare blanket, “Yes, you will be saying Ivan tomorrow. The project begins anew with both of you there.”

Mathew found it very hard to sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a while, was lowkey in the middle of Hurricane Irma. I'm fine though, the worst that happened to me was losing power for a week, and my mango tree.


	17. His Lover's Last Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !WARNING!
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE THAT SOME READERS MAY NOT BE COMFORTABLE WITH.
> 
> YOUR DISCRETION IN READING THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS ADVISED.
> 
> GRAPHIC VIOLENCE = THERE IS SOME GORE IN THIS CHAPTER.
> 
> IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT HAS OCCURRED IN THIS CHAPTER BUT ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH VIOLENCE AND GORE, SKIP TO THE END OF IT FOR THE AUTHOR'S NOTE.
> 
> !END WARNING!

_Four days ago, the night that Antonio went missing; same night that Mathew discovered Luciano’s identity._

* * *

_“Bon nuit, Antonio! Be safe going home, oui? It is dangerous in the allies near your dance studio.”_

_“Thanks, Francis, but you won’t have to worry, I’ll be fine. See you later at work, okay?”_

_The French man waved to his good friend before heading off in his car, and Antonio began his walk home. His job was pretty cozy, all things considered; being a double agent for the mafia and the company wasn’t that bad. Both jobs held his dance studio as an integral part of his cover, and it was very nice to be able to spend the afternoons dancing away to salsa with Lovino. Ah, Lovino…Antonio smiled to himself, waiting on the street corner for the crosswalk light to turn green._

_The steady whirr of cars passing by on the nearby main street was calming, and Antonio crossed the street, a bounce in his step and a song on his lips. Lovino’s little apartment near the resort was in view now. But Antonio paused-mid step, tensing, ears perking up at the sound of quickened breathing and shoes smacking cobblestone too fast to be a calm jog. Hand on the gun hidden in his jacket, Antonio slowly turned, eyes on the lookout, and sighed when he saw it was just Ludwig that was approaching, but tensed again when he saw the panic in his friend’s normally calm eyes._

_“Antonio! Thank god, I found you! They know – they, they found out! You need to go into hiding, right now!”_

_Antonio gripped his gun, eyes narrowed, “What are you talking about? Calm down first, Ludwig.”_

_“The company! They found out that you’re on the side of the mafia! Please, go into hiding, tell Lovino – “_

_“– how do you know about that, Ludwig?” Antonio pulled out his gun, keeping it in line with Ludwig’s eye level. The tall German shook his head, frantic eyes scanning their surroundings with worry._

_“That doesn’t matter right now! Please, just do as I say, Antonio! You’re a precious family friend, I don’t want the same thing that happened to Feli to – “_

_Antonio flipped off the safety of the gun audibly, “I suggest you speak calmly and explain to me clearly what you’re going on about. Feliciano is safe at home, and I want to know how you know about my double-agent status. My lover is waiting is for me to come home.”_

_“We don’t have time for this!”_

_The Spaniard scoffed, wary of Ludwig’s intentions, his years on the streets hardening him against the years of friendship he had with the German, “The mafia is just a whistle away. We have time; explain.”_

_Taking a shuddering breath, Ludwig looked around just one last time, keeping Antonio’s gun in sight at all times._

_“I…I too am a double-agent for the company. My task was to befriend Feliciano to try to worm out the location of the mafia headquarters and the identity of the boss out of him. I…I_ was _with the company. I took him on a date as an excuse to arrest him. And…and then they took him in for the 2P Project! They forced me to train his Second Player to act like Feliciano so that he’d be able to destruct the mafia from within, but…”_

_“Give me one reason to not shoot you right now, Ludwig.”_

_“F-Feliciano lives! I swear by it, and the company knows my betrayal, for they have eyes everywhere – they know I’ve come to warn you, after Alfred ratted you out to Mathias, and we don’t have time right now, we really don’t!”_

_The uncharacterizable panic had Antonio on edge, and hearing someone approaching from a distance, he set off at a rush, dragging Ludwig behind him._

_“We’ll go hide with Lovino. Now, give me another reason why_ Lovino _shouldn’t kill you.”_

_“I…the betrayal upon Feliciano’s face haunts my dreams every night. I plan to go back help him escape. They keep him in the highest security cells the company can manufacture.”_

_“Mhm, keep talking about what you know,” Antonio rummaged in his jacket for the keys to Lovino’s apartment with his right hand, his left hand still pointing his gun at Ludwig’s head, ears strained and alert for whoever was approaching from a distance._

_“Th-they took in my big bruder and his friend Ivan, and they stopped being careful about what citizens they take. I, I don’t think our boss is Mathias anymore! I, I think – “_

_“Are you saying that Mathias was replaced by a 2P?”_

_All Ludwig could do in response was gasp, lips moving too slow in their rush to shout a warning to Antonio, the Spaniard about to question him in confusion, all too aware that the sound of the approaching footsteps had disappeared, when all he felt and heard was pain. His breath left his lungs, and he was gently let down to his knees by a hand on his back. Ludwig seemed like he had seen a ghost, there was such horror in his eyes. Antonio struggled to breath, sputtering and coughing up blood. The world around him moved like molasses._

_“Naughty, naughty Ludwig. Tsk, tsk, tsk. I already had to deal with one mess, and now I have to deal with you? I warned Magnus that you were up to something ever since you hesitated to train me.”_

_Antonio looked down at the tip of the blade poking out of his chest with a sense of disembodiment, his blood slowly staining his white shirt. As long as the blade was kept in place, the bleeding would be held at bay and he would have a chance –_

_“Oh, you’re Antonio, ve? I’ve seen you lots by Lovino’s side. Are the two you lovers? How sweet. It’s a shame. If Ludwig knew how to keep a secret, you wouldn’t have had to die. You would’ve been a valuable addition to our cause, I’m sure.”_

_Antonio gasped for air as the blade was yanked out of his back, Luciano dislodging it by kicking him in the small of his back as hard as possible. He went down with a bounce, wheezing and sputtering, blood splattering on the sidewalk as he tried to regain his breath. Mathew landed unconscious beside him, and Antonio lifted his head quickly, just in time to see Luciano pounce upon Ludwig as the German attempted to run for safety, the blade swinging and plunging in wide arcs again and again and again and again and again and again and again. Painfully reaching into his jacket, Antonio pulled out his phone, trembling and struggling to unlock it, smearing the screen with so much blood that it nearly didn’t read his passcode. It was difficult to try to type an SOS out to anyone, let alone call anyone, and Antonio wasn’t even sure which contact he was messaging or if he was even dialing anything, the keys on the screen barely registering his touch from his blood-stained fingers._

_With slow progress, he managed to type out ‘help’, and was struggling to hit send. He was dizzy from all the blood loss, and could feel it seeping into his pants, gushing out from the hole in his chest now that there was nothing to retrain the blood flow. Luciano began to cackle, and Antonio renewed his effort, relieved when the message finally sent. Looking up to see what Luciano was doing, the color drained from his face when he saw what was left of Ludwig. The only identifiable feature remaining was a single blue eye, hanging freely from the left eye socket. Ludwig kept a hand pressed to his abdomen to keep his organs within, wailing in delirious pain, but Antonio was sure it was all in vain._

_‘Where are you?’ came the response text, and Antonio trembled, fingers clumsy and slick as they tried to respond. He could already hear Luciano coming back to finish him off. He managed to type part of the word ‘outside’ when Lovino began calling him, and he moaned in despair, pressing the answer button repeatedly in desperation, but he could tell that Luciano was already upon him, it was all in vain. If only he could hear Lovino’s voice saying his name one last time –_

_“Buona notte, Antonio,” Luciano giggled as he brought his boot upon the Spaniard’s head, slamming down with as much force as his could muster with his inhuman strength, the remains of Antonio’s head splashing onto the sidewalk and the phone. The last thing that Antonio heard before life left him was the worried crackle of Lovino’s voice over the static of the speaker, asking, “Antonio, where are you?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a flashback to what happened four days ago, the day that Luciano revealed himself, Mathew was kidnapped a second time, and Antonio went missing with the mafia unable to locate him. That evening, Antonio is leaving work and bidding goodbye to his friend Francis. As he nears the apartment that he and Lovino share, Ludwig approaches in an uncharacteristical panic, telling Antonio that he must go into hiding. Suspicious, Antonio pulls out a gun and questions Ludwig, forcing him to explain himself. Ludwig reveals that he was the reason that Feliciano was taken for the 2P Project in the first place, but that he regrets it, and that Feliciano is alive and that he aspires to save him, but warns Antonio repeatedly that he must run and hide for the company has long since realized that Antonio is a double agent for the mafia. Hearing someone approaching from a distance, Antonio rushes with Ludwig to the safety of his and Lovino's apartment to go into hiding, but before he can open the door with his keys, Luciano (unconscious Mathew in tow) attacks them. After Antonio is left to bleed to death on the sidewalk, Mathew set next to him for Luciano to pick up later, Antonio tries to communicate with his phone for some cry of help but it is difficult with how he is bleeding out all over. While Antonio is doing this, Luciano is attacking Ludwig, leaving the German in a state that Antonio can hardly recognize. When Luciano begins to walk back over to finish Antonio off, Lovino calls him, and Antonio struggles to press the 'answer call' button before Luciano is upon him. The last thing that Antonio wishes for as Luciano finsihes him off to hear Lovino's voice one last time, and the last thing that Antonio hears right before he dies is Lovino worriedly asking over the phone, "Antonio, where are you?"


	18. London Bridge is Falling Down!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> London Bridge is falling down  
> Falling down, falling down  
> London Bridge is falling down   
> My fair lady

Magnus slid on a pair of aviator sunglasses and kicked down the marble door with a boot, smug smile complimenting his aesthetic, strolling through town with a purpose. He swaggered through the government district, a brunet in matching aviators following behind, Luciano in his leather jacket on his right, and Kuro in his black uniform on his left, the quartet strolling into the ancient castle that was once London’s parliament building, shoving aside all security personnel. Magnus nodded to the 2P in matching aviators and the two of them set to work dousing every square inch in kerosene. The four Second Players strolled back out as leisurely as they had walked in, and at Magnus’s signal, Luciano and Kuro set fire to a set of matches, which they threw into the building.

Victoria the 52nd ran out onto the balcony in dismay, her personal guard restraining her and dragging her back towards the fire. Her presidency made eye contact with Magnus, her eyes wild, and she shouted out, “What is the meaning of this, Mathias?!”

But the 2P giggled, for there was no Mathias at all, and waved a merry goodbye before he was on his way with his quartet, the chaos of the city and the screams of panic music to his ears. The fall of the Republic of England had begun, and he was the composer orchestrating his greatest masterpiece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you guys like a separate fic or blog post explaining the world dynamic behind Mr.Kirkland? I'm considering making one.


	19. Winter Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the homestretch, y'all

Rain drizzled monstrously around him, pittering and pattering on the cold cobblestone of London, a peaceful hum. The droplets began to soak into his coat, his umbrella ignored, rain coat slouched down one shoulder. But he was too numb to care. The latest headline drilled on in his ears, and Lovino stared on at the screen in the square, a chill settling in. He still didn’t move. The headline blurred in his eyes, fraying at the edges, lack of sleep keeping his mind out of focus.

**“This Just In: Her Presidency Victoria the 52 nd, all the Parliament Staff, Perish in Parliament Castle Fire! Accident or Murder?”**

**“Mathias Kohler, head of the Department of Defense and owner of Magnum Hetalia, only one left in line of succession for presidency? More at six!”**

**“Magnum Hetalia Officers perish in Parliament Castle fire, prized officers among the dead, more at six!”**

Antonio’s smiling photo flashed across the screen after the third headline and Lovino shut his eyes tight in grief. His entire world was crumbling around him, and he had fought for nothing – all because some impish British man was too self-righteous to murder one person for the good of humanity three years ago. Now Lovino was without warmth – and it wasn’t because of the London morning rain – and he would never have his peace back.

The gritty crunch of shoes upon the wet street alerted Lovino to Arthur’s presence and he raggedly sighed, too tired to even open his eyes. The umbrella held over him broke the monotony of the rain, but it did nothing to ease the din in his head. Arthur was silent, as if considering what he should say or how he should begin his conversing. It gave Lovino a feeling of a sick sort of amusement.

“I don’t want to see you, Kirkland.”

     “…I know.”

“Then why do you appear before me?”

     “I…have someone here who may be beneficial in helping you.”

“What’s the point, Kirkland? What’s the point, huh? Have you seen the headlines? They’ve won already! The company’s already won! There’s no point to anything anymore…”

“I know that…it may seem like they’ve already won, Lovino, but I think this…this plan he’s made may be a last hope to us.”

Lovino felt ready to snap, and whirled around to face Arthur, mouth ready to yell at him, but he stopped cold when he saw the officer standing beside the Brit. His blood froze in his veins.

“What…what is the meaning of this, Kirkland?”

     “He’s not going to arrest you, trust me. He’s…my cousin, Alfred F. Jones. He’s also Mathew’s older brother. He’s agreed to help us with the 2P project. He’s going to try to help Lukas, the scientist behind this whole project, escape with the peaceful 2Ps. He wants to quit the company.”

The blond officer shuffled on his feet as though he was still coming to terms with the fact that he was Arthur Kirkland’s cousin, and Lovino regarded him wearily.

“ _Trying_ to quit? Why hasn’t he just done it already? And how the fuck would helping the scientist who created the damn 2ps help _us_?!”

     The officer held his tongue, allowing Arthur to speak, although he didn’t seem happy about it.

“The company controls the government’s defense department, and they now currently own the entirety of the government. The officers are not allowed to leave unless they don’t mind being branded for treason or trying to leave with company secrets. As for Lukas…he’s done the entire project against his will. He’s on our side.”

“That sounds like a load of bullshit, _bastardo_.”

     “Well, it’s true!” Alfred retorted angrily and Lovino shifted as if he were ready to brawl, but Arthur held the two men back from each other, trying to placate them.

“I didn’t come to antagonize you, Lovino. I know you’re going through your own share of grief, I understand. But at least let us sit and talk. We can still turn this around.”

Lovino smoldered at them, every fiber of his being distrusting the both of them; he wanted to curse them both and have absolutely nothing to do with them. Yet there was also a nagging at him, a persuasiveness in Arthur’s voice that lulled him to give in. Disgusted with himself, Lovino agreed to listen to the two blonds.

“Fine. Let’s hear what you two life-ruiners have to say.”


End file.
